and many more
by SparkleMouse
Summary: "Come on, Birthday Boy. Let's go." Beckett throws Castle a 42nd birthday party. Co-authored with airbefore.
1. Chapter 1

co-authored with airbefore

* * *

His hand is warm on her thigh, slipping up under the hem of her dress, caressing her skin with feather light touches. Kate smiles at the woman sitting across from them and squeezes her thighs together, tries to still his questing fingers. She can see him grinning in her peripheral vision, a smug light dancing in his eyes.

"So, Rick, how's the new Nikki Heat coming?"

The tips of his fingers brush over her and she feels him go still, his arm vibrating with tension where it's pressed up against her stomach. She's not wearing underwear, impossible with this dress, and can tell from the way his throat is convulsing that it was the last thing he had expected when he started this little game.

"It's good for the most part. Still trying to work through the case though."

He drags a finger through her arousal and she has to bite back a moan when he slips inside her, his palm pressing hotly into her inner thigh. He pushes his finger deeper, curling at the first knuckle in the way he knows drives her insane, and she grips the wooden seat in an effort to stop her hips from bucking up against him. He's smiling, engaged in a goddamn conversation like the pad of his thumb isn't _this close_ to brushing across her clit, like he's not about to make her moan his name at a table with another best selling author.

He takes a sip of his scotch with his free hand, slides another finger inside of her and _fuck_, she has to breathe, breathe, just breathe. She grips his thigh with her nails and he doesn't even flinch because he's _enjoying_ watching her squirm and she's never given him quite enough credit for how dangerous he can be. She hears it then, some question Chelsea's asking her and she blinks, tries to focus on anything but the way his fingers are curling and twisting inside of her. _Shit_, she is going to kill him.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Rick mentioned that Gina wanted you to come to his next signing for publicity. Did you decide if you were going to go?"

Castle's smirking next to her, _smirking_, and she places her hand over his, stilling him, breathing deeply through her nose. He's flush against her side and he looks so damn smug like he's not trying to get her off in the middle of his bar and if he wants to play she's more than willing . She pushes his palm flat against her, his fingers gliding through her wetness, teasing them both, and she clenches around him, tilts her pelvis down into his hand. He takes in a breath, grabbing his scotch and she smiles as if she's not about a minute away from coming around his fingers.

"I don't know," she replies and her voice is surprisingly steady, years of acting in the interrogation room finally paying off. She turns to him, swallows hard at the fire burning in his eyes. "What do you think, Castle? Would Gina approve of me showing up as Nikki Heat? Or would that be a little awkward considering?"

He looks like he's about to choke on his drink; it's all she needs to rub one hand over his back soothingly, fingers dipping between each ridge of his spine. "What about you?" she asks Chelsea. "Has anyone ever dressed up as Gretchen Lowell for your readings?"

"A couple of fans here or there, but thankfully Black Pawn hasn't forced me into that yet. Then again," she says with a smile, "I don't have a real life inspiration."

Kate almost gasps as he slides another finger inside of her, stretching her apart. She flushes, the moisture between her legs hot and so incredibly intense that if she were to move right now - _fuck._ She can feel the unraveling in her stomach, muscles clenching around him, the heat setting fire to her veins.

"I'm going to head to the little girl's room and then get a drink," Chelsea says, stepping out of the booth. "Do either of you need anything?"

Castle looks at her, mirth shimmering in his eyes. "Kate? You look a little hot. Do you want water or something?"

She manages a smile, squeezing her legs around his thrusting hand. "No, thank you. I'm okay." She releases a shaky breath when Chelsea finally walks away and turns to him with narrowed eyes, her voice low. "I'm going to kill you."

"Oh, Beckett." He grins, leaning in close. She can smell the alcohol on his breath, the cologne on his skin, her. His finger curl slowly inside of her and she whimpers against his mouth. "Wouldn't it just have been easier to tell me what my present is?"

* * *

_**Four hours earlier...**_

"Seriously, Castle. Your hair looks fine."

"Fine? No no no, Beckett. Fine will not do." Kate sighs, rolls her eyes. "I'm forty-two -"

"In two days. If I let you live that long."

"Still. I'm forty-two and have a full head of luscious hair. This is a fact that needs to be properly celebrated and displayed."

Kate pushes herself up off the bed, walks over to the open door of the bathroom. Propping her hip against the door frame, she watches him. He looks good. Really _really_ good. His black slacks are slung low on his hips and he's wearing the red shirt he know she loves, the first three buttons open and exposing the thick line of his neck. She loves to dip her tongue into the hollow of his throat, feel the vibrations of his moan against her lips.

"We're going to be late," she chides him gently, her eyes still roaming his body.

"Hey, it's my party. It can't officially start until I get there." He pushes the comb through his hair one more time then stops. Leaning back, he tilts his head to the side and stares at the mirror for a long moment before nodding at his reflection. "Okay, I'm ready."

She stops him in the doorway, hand pressed against his heart. It beats slowly, rhythmically beneath her palm. She kisses him, tastes the fresh wintergreen toothpaste. "You're such a pretty, pretty princess," she teases.

"Does that make you my knight in shining armor?"

"I have saved your ass quite a few times."

Castle slides his palm down the length of her spine, pulls her close. "And yet I've still saved yours more." He traces his tongue over her left clavicle, hums against her skin. "How about we just stay here tonight? You can give me my presents. Naked."

"In the course of the past three weeks, you have sent me over thirty emails telling me how to plan this." She lifts his head from her chest, eyes darkened, and she's so close to giving in, to agreeing to stay. Just the two of them. Alone.

He smiles at her and she's filled with so much warmth. So much desire. "You told me to shut up and to leave you alone."

Kate leans into him, whispering. "Because I throw _really_ good parties." She bites his earlobe, gently. "You can unwrap your presents later but I promise you want to go tonight."

"Ohhh presents! What is it? A pony? A puppy? Oh, _Hangover_ monkey?"

"What's with the animal theme?" She grabs his hand, turning out the lights in the bedroom. "And where would I even purchase a monkey, Castle?"

"You're a detective, I have faith you'd figure it out."

"I didn't buy you a monkey."

"What about you on the bed in nothing but a big red bow covering only your-"

"Seriously?"

"No, I guess there's nothing to unwrap if you're gonna give away the farm." She rolls her eyes, stepping out into the hallway. "Come on, what is it?"

"You're forty-two. I thought this was the year you'd have the answers for all of life's mysteries?"

"I want to be mad, but when you reference things like _The Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy _or comic books you are so damn hot that I can't be anything other than aroused."

Kate smirks. Oh this is going to be fun. "Just you wait, Castle. Just you wait."

* * *

He knows he should be slightly ashamed of the streak of pride that zips through his chest when he parks the Ferrari outside the Old Haunt but he just can't be bothered to care. Not tonight. Not when she's sliding out of his car in a scrap of material that barely qualifies as a dress, her long legs on display and her hair loose and free, curls tumbling carelessly over her bare shoulders.

"Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you want to push me down on the hood of your car," she answers, her body swaying up against him.

"But I do." He reaches down, drags his fingers along her exposed thigh. "Very much. Can that be my present?"

"You seriously want sex on the hood of a car as your birthday present?" She lifts an eyebrow, and he has to smother his smile. She's so cute when she's annoyed. "You're forty-two, Castle, not twenty."

"Can we stop saying my age? It's starting to make me feel old." He leans in and presses a kiss below her ear, her perfume bitter on the tip of his tongue. "If you tell me what my actual present is, I'll stop asking."

"Liar," she breathes, pushing on his chest. "Now, come on. You have an entrance to make."

She leads him down the stairs by the hand and he trips on the last step, his eyes glued to the sway of her hips instead of watching where he's going. She turns around to look at him, amusement dancing in her eyes and he doesn't care how good this party supposedly is because when she moves like that all he can think of is her underneath him, writhing and moaning and he needs to touch her, just -

"Don't you dare," she warns, slapping away the hand going for her hip. "You can behave yourself for a few hours."

"And if I don't will you spank me?" He winks.

"I hate you."

"No," he grins, pulling her flush against him. "You love me."

Kate rakes her nails through his hair, lightly grazing his scalp. "Come on, Birthday Boy. Let's go." He tastes her strawberry lip gloss with the chaste kiss she gives him, one hand sliding down his chest. "Oh and Castle? If you're good, maybe I'll let _you_ spank _me_."

He sucks in a breath, tries to slow the frantic pounding of his heart as she pulls open the door and tugs him over the threshold. The bar is buzzing, filled to capacity with his family and friends. He spots a few of his colleagues from Black Pawn and has a moment of mild alarm that Gina might be in attendance. He's four chapters behind on the next book and really has no desire to be harangued at his birthday party.

"Did you invite Gina?" His voice is low and panicked and Kate laughs at him.

"Yes but she declined. Said she wouldn't be able to avoid the temptation to verbally abuse you in public."

"Oh, thank goodness." She tugs him forward, her hand soft and warm in his, her hip bumping against his thigh as she leads him toward the bar. "Kate?"

"Yes?"

"Why are all of my employees wearing masks?"

She hands him a menu off of the cherry wood counter. It's different than the ones belonging to the Old Haunt and he glances over the list of drinks. _Elektra's Electric Lemonade. J. Jonah Jameson's Jello Shots. Two Face, Shit Faced._

"Oh my God, Beckett. You threw me a heroes and villains party?"

"I told you I was good at this."

Castle wraps an arm around her lower back, drawing her into his body, presses his lips to her neck. "You are officially the best girlfriend ever."

"I can't take all the credit. Alexis was a huge help. Speaking of."

Kate nods her head in the direction of the door. He turns to see his daughter, a whirlwind of fiery red hair dodging through the crowd.

"Dad!" She collides with his side, sending his breath rushing out of his lungs. "Happy birthday."

Castle releases his hold on Kate and wraps both his arms around his daughter. He presses a kiss to her forehead then rests his cheek on her crown, watches Kate smiling at them.

"Thanks, pumpkin. Kate says you helped?"

"Oh, not much. Just helped her with some of the drink ideas and -"

Twisting to face his girlfriend, his giggling daughter still trapped in his arms, he gasps, puts on a face of mock outrage.

"You contributed to the delinquency of my minor?"

"Naming not creating, Dad," Alexis says, her eyes rolling in a near perfect imitation of Kate's. Oh, that's scary. "Hi, Kate."

"Hey, Alexis. Thanks for getting things started. Your dad was-"

"Primping?"

"Basically, yeah." Kate laughs and reaches out to run a hand down his arm, tangling her fingers with his and squeezing. "If you think you can keep the prima donna occupied for a few minutes, I'm going to go check in with Brian and make sure everything is okay."

"I'm standing right here." Castle huffs good-naturedly and leans over to kiss her on the cheek. "And I don't need a babysitter. I can keep myself out of trouble."

"I have five years of evidence to refute that claim," she tosses over her shoulder as she walks away. He watches for a moment, eyes drawn again to the mesmerizing sway of her hips.

"Ew, Dad."

"Right, sorry." He focuses his attention back on Alexis, smoothing back her hair.

"So? Have you figured out the answer to life yet? Are aliens going to attack us? Is the world going to end? Tell me, oh wise master."

"I will have you know, darling daughter, that I still have two days before the answers come to me."

"I'll be eagerly awaiting your call, Fath-" She stops mid sentence, her eyes widening. "Oh god, Dad, she followed me here!"

Castle looks at the sea of people gathering throughout the bar, nodding his head at a couple of other writers. He smiles, gives them a quick wave before trying to locate what has Alexis so freaked out. There's the boys with Jenny and Lanie, some of his editors, and oh- His mother sitting with Jim Beckett. And Captain Gates.

Gates, who hates him even more now that he's dating Kate. Gates, who sizes him up at every opportunity like he's just killed _her_ off in one of his books. Gates, who should not be sitting with his mother and his girlfriend's _father _telling them about the time he did, well anything, against her command.

"She followed you here?" Castle asks, panicked. "Did you go to the precinct? Why would she come? Is this to torture me?"

"What? No, Dad, my roommate!"

Alexis turns his body until he's staring at a tiny girl huddled in the corner. She's texting, tweeting, facebooking, something while glancing up every few seconds and Castle gives a small wave. The girl nearly panics, burying her head into her neck, typing furiously.

"She seems," Castle pauses, searching for the right words, "like a unique snowflake."

"Obsessed, Dad. She seems obsessed!"

"With you?"

"With _you."_

Castle bounces back on his feet, grinning. "That's to be expected. I'm awesome."

Alexis rolls her eyes again and it alarms him the number of times both his daughter and girlfriend do that when he's around. "It's not going to be awesome when she comes to the loft to _kill _you. She was so normal at first, you know? Didn't even know who you were-"

"Hey!"

"So totally not the point right now! But then I come home a month ago and she's reading one of your books. Which okay, that seems fine, but oh my god, Dad, she wouldn't stop talking about you after! She was asking questions about Kate, about how much she was really the inspiration for Nikki and it totally creeped me out! I mentioned that it was your birthday and she must have followed me!"

"Aw, that's cute."

"No, not cute. Creepy." Alexis twists him back around, one hand planted on her hip. "It's seriously freaking me out. I don't know how but she got her hands on one of those stand up cutouts of you. She hid it in her closet at first but now she keeps it in the corner of the room." Alexis shudders, her body shivering exaggeratedly. "It feels like you're watching me all the time."

"Well, I can at least take comfort in the fact that you're not bringing boys back to your room." Castle grins down at her, delighted by the way her face flushes. She's so easy to mess with, his daughter. "What with me watching and all."

"Again, ew. This isn't a joke, Dad. I found her _talking_ to it the other day. Just, like, carrying on a conversation. That's not normal."

"Okay," he concedes, starting to feel a little creeped out himself. "Yeah, that is weird." He looks over his shoulder again and finds the girl staring at him with wide round eyes. "You think it would help if you introduced her to me? You know, take away some of the mystery?"

Alexis tilts her head to the side, considers his words. Castle scans the crowd over her shoulder, looking for Kate, spots her chatting with Lanie and the boys, her face animated with whatever anecdote she's relaying.

"Yeah, okay," Alexis says, drawing his attention back to her. "It's worth a shot. Come on."

He lets Alexis drag him across the bar, nodding hellos to various guests as he goes. They pass the table with his mother, Gates, and Jim and he feels his pulse tick up a few notches, his hands going clammy. Absolutely _nothing_ good can come out of that situation.

Distracted, he bumps into his daughter when she comes to a sudden stop. Castle looks up and sees her glaring at him over her shoulder and shit she looks like a lot like Beckett right now. What is it with the women in his life and those looks?

"Sorry, pumpkin. Got distracted."

Alexis rolls her eyes - seriously, she has to stop doing that - and nods her head toward the mousy girl huddled in the corner, trying desperately to make herself blend in with the wall.

"Dad, this is Shelby, my roommate. Shelby, this is my dad, Richard Castle."

"It's nice to finally meet you, Shelby. I was starting that you were a figment of Alexis' imagination." He gives the girl his best smile, watches in horror as tears spring into her eyes. Shelby stares up into his face for a moment, absolutely silent, then takes off, darting through the crowd and out the front door.

"Well. She seems nice?"

"Oh god, I better go check on her. She really is very sweet and I'm sure she's mortified." Alexis turns to him, her face awash with worry. "Do you mind if I go?"

"Of course not." His heart swells with pride as he pulls her into a hug. He raised a good kid. Though he can admit that it's probably more a result of her innate sense of compassion than his parenting skills. "You're coming for dinner tomorrow night?"

"Wouldn't miss it." She kisses his cheek and smiles at him. "Have a good party, Dad. Don't get too crazy. I don't want to have to dip into my savings to bail you out again."

"Please," he scoffs, walking her toward the door. "My girlfriend is one of the NYPD's finest. No way she'd let me get arrested."

Alexis laughs, her cheeks rosy and blue eyes dancing. "You sure about that?" He pauses, thinks it over for a moment and then shakes his head mutely. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Let's not test your theory, okay?"

"Okay, okay," he grumbles, pulling her into another hug when they reach the exit. "Tomorrow night at eight. Bring a present."

"My smiling face and sparkling personality aren't present enough?"

"Nope. I prefer monetary displays of affection." He lets her go and pulls the door open, grabbing her by the elbow before she can make it over the threshold. "By the way, do you know what Kate got me? I need to know if I should practice my 'This is hideous but I love you so I'm going to pretend to like it anyway' face."

"Even if I did know, why would I tell you?"

"Where is your loyalty, child? Seriously, what'd she get me? A tie? A subscription to _People_? Patterson's entire collection and a box of matches?"

"Night, Dad. Have fun." She drops another kiss on his cheek then clatters up the stairs, pulling her phone out her pocket as she goes.

"Spoilsport!"

"Was that the roommate who's in love with you?" Kate asks, coming up behind him. She rubs her hand over his back, nails lightly scraping against the material of his shirt.

"Alexis told you about her?"

"She mentioned something about her last night."

Castle turns around, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Did you ever have a cardboard cutout of me in your dorm room, Beckett?"

"Yes," she deadpans. "It's what I learned to shoot a gun on. You're an excellent target."

"You won't tell me my present and you're being mean to me?" Castle pouts. "What's next? You're going to tell me you've become a huge fan of Nicholas Sparks?"

"This jealousy you have of other authors is-"

"Sexy? Endearing?"

"Ridiculous."

Kate's lips touch his ear, her hot breath sliding across his skin. "You have over twenty-five best sellers, Rick. I can't tell you what a turn on that is. I know I don't tell you this enough, but you're brilliant-"

Castle leans back, gripping her shoulders. He raises an eyebrow with an imperceptible shake of his head. "You're being too nice. You have never once called me brilliant. What do you want?"

"You need to head to the table in the back right-"

"You mean the one with my mother, your father and your captain who would probably laugh if I got shot?"

"That's a little dramatic even for you."

"Why did she even come? Oh god, do you think she got me a present? Is anthrax still a thing? Should we scan all the envelopes here?"

"You're impossible. Besides, I'm sure if Gates is too hard on you your mother will step in and defend you."

"You are spewing so much bullshit tonight. I commend you for the effort."

The laugh that comes out of her is light, airy, and fills him so completely. "It'll be fine. If you're good I'll tell you what your present is."

Castle's eyes widen. "Really?"

"No. But you're going over there anyway."

There's a sudden burst of laughter, loud over the people in the bar and array of music, and Castle warily turns his head to the back, right table. The table where his mother is engaged in some kind of story - most likely about him - hand gestures and all. Gates is nearly hysterical and he doesn't like the fact that his mother is teaming up with this woman. He doesn't like that Kate's father is hearing about god only knows what because there was that one time with the cowgirl he met when he was eleven on a weekend getaway to Dallas or the bikini model that he had sneaked into his room at sixteen and he's pretty much about to lose his girlfriend, second job and dignity in the next ninety seconds.

He turns back to Kate, pressing his lips to hers, and _oh_ she feels so good and he's going to miss this. "I love you. No matter what, I love you."

Amusement shimmers in her eyes, flecks of green surrounding the outer rims of brown. "Don't worry, Castle. I'm sure she's not telling them about the time in middle school when she walked in on you fondling your-" Kate's lips lift, dangerously. "Gun."

_Fuck._ He is so totally and completely dead right now.


	2. Chapter 2

If she's being honest, it's a little amusing.

Castle sits between his mother and her captain and across from her father like a child who is about to be scolded. Or has been scolded for the last ten minutes. She'd feel bad except there's something gratifying about watching him squirm. Truthfully, the situation is fine. No one is torturing him; her father isn't grilling him about his intentions. Gates is actually being rather pleasant, but she knows Castle well enough to know he's waiting for it. For the bomb to go off, the other shoe to drop, the moment when his birthday turns into the seventh circle of hell.

"Darling, where's Alexis?" Martha asks and Kate watches as Castle breathes a sigh of relief. His daughter. He can talk about his daughter.

"She had to go take care of something. Did you know her roommate has an obsession with me?"

"Mr. Castle, let me ask you something." Oh. This is going to be interesting. "Do you think the entire world is in love with you?"

"I-" Castle opens his mouth and then snaps it shut. There's a drink beside him, one of the one's she has created for tonight and he takes a long swig of it. Kate sees him physically steel himself as he puts the glass back on the table, spinning it over the scarred wood. "What is it about me that you don't like, Sir?"

"Richard-"

"I'm just curious, Mother." He turns sideways so he's facing the captain, his elbow resting on the rounded table. "I like to think that I'm generally not a bad guy. You can't tell me I haven't helped solve some of your cases."

Gates purses her lips. "You've been an asset at times, yes."

"So what is it?"

"You're not a cop. You _distract_ my detectives." Kate flushes and takes Castle's drink, downing the rest of it. Her father is looking at her, amused, and if this is her payback for being entertained by Castle's discomfort, well, good job universe. "And you spent over $200,000 on Luke Skywalker's lightsaber."

"You spent _how_ much?" Kate asks, incredulous.

"Mother," Castle bites out, "how about we keep the amount I spend on awesomely wonderful and fun memorabilia to ourselves?"

"I needed it as a reference point, dear."

"What outlandish tale were you spinning that needed that story as a frame of reference? Are you re-writing your one woman play again?"

Kate watches them volley back and forth, her lips pressed together in a tiny smile. Castle family interactions always set off a little flutter in her chest, a slight increase in her heart rate when it hits her yet again that this is where she belongs. She occasionally still has trouble believing that this is her life now. That she is sitting across from him in his bar at a party she planned with his mother and child. That she'll be going home with him at the end of the night and it will be her name he moans into the darkness when his body is overcome with pleasure.

"You look happy."

She jumps, startled at the sound of her father's low voice so close to her ear. She turns her head to face him. He's smiling at her and she sees the light in his eyes that had been gone for so long. It had taken years after her mother's death to see her father like this again, happy and full of life and the closest thing she ever had to a superhero growing up. She listens to Castle across the table, the sound of his voice, the way it's comforted her for so many years, long before she was even aware of it.

"I am," Kate responds softly.

Jim places his hand over hers, squeezing her fingers gently. "Your mother would be really proud of you, Katie."

Her heart clenches, but the tears don't gather tonight, not here, not when she's surrounded by all of this. Her lips quirk and she nods because as much as she wishes her mother was here, she's not sure she would change this crazy trajectory her life has taken. "She'd be proud of you too. Especially since you used to be such a hardass when it came to my boyfriends. How many did you scare away, Dad?" she teases. "One? Two?"

"I'll never tell." He kisses her cheek, his voice a whisper over the -

Wait, are Castle and Gates actually laughing? _With _each other?

"Even if I tried to scare Rick away, it wouldn't take. He looks at you how I used to look at your mother. He has for a long time."

Kate bites her lip, nodding as she glances across the table again. She catches Castle's eye and he smiles, the lines around his eyes crinkling. She denied it for so many years, but she'd always noticed how he looked at her as if she was everything long before she ever was; the way his voice would change when he was being honest, so breathtakingly real with her, low and deep and in some kind of awe she never felt she deserved. It hasn't changed since they started to date. Maybe it's more out in the open now, not as sheltered as it once was but she still hears it late into the night when she's falling asleep, sees it in his face when he runs his fingers through her hair in bed.

She turns back to Jim and she's not sure she's ever been this settled, this happy before in her life. "I think if you tried to scare him away, he'd probably ask for tips to use on Alexis' boyfriends."

"Alexis has a boyfriend?"

Of course this is the moment Castle chooses to overhear their conversation. Jim laughs, the understanding chuckle of a man well versed in the trials of dealing with a teenaged girl.

"I'm sure if she did she would tell you, Castle. After all, you're the cool dad."

"I _am_ the cool dad," he mutters.

"Just be lucky your daughter isn't as wild as mine was, Rick."

"_Dad," _Kate admonishes, embarrassment creeping up her back.

"Oh," Castle breathes, his eyes twinkling. "Tell me more, Jim. Kate has always talked a big game about her wild child phase but fails to back it up with actual proof." She glares at him and aims a kick at his shin under the table. "Aside from the motorcycle, that is."

"The motorcycle is just the tip of that iceberg, Rick," Her dad chuckles and wraps his arm around her shoulder, shaking her gently. "Katie - well, she was a handful. Her mother used to say that she was glad we only had one child because more than one of Katie would have left us both in padded rooms."

The other side of the table erupts into laughter and Kate dips her head, uses the curtain of her hair to hide her suddenly flaming cheeks. Yeah. This is happening. Great.

"She turned out well," her father equivocates, patting her on the arm. "Though I did have some serious doubts for a few years. Remember that one boyfriend you had, honey? What was his name? Platinum, aluminum, silv-"

"Steel," she grits out, her teeth never separating, her eyes glued to the table. She really does not want to see the look on Castle's face right now. Spotting a waitress close by, Kate flags her down and takes one of the cocktails from her loaded tray.

"That's right," Jim says, his voice shaking with barely restrained laughter. "Steel. He had a band and a van and Katie was head over heels. Ran off to Atlantic City with him when she was seventeen; they were going to elope."

Oh god. She can feel Castle's eyes on her, burning a hole into the top of her head. This is really not a story she ever wanted him to hear especially not while sitting at a table with his mother and her boss. She couldn't concoct this scenario in even her worst nightmares and fuck this is definitely going to be awkward later.

"What happened?" Ah, Gates, ever the pragmatist. Thank goodness for Gates. "Did you wake up and realize you didn't want to be married to a teenage idiot that chose to call himself Steel?"

Fuck Gates.

"We got there and realized we couldn't get a marriage license because I was underage," Kate answers, taking a sip of the bright yellow cocktail. Oh, that's strong. Good.

"And then she called home, crying, asking me to come pick her up because her fiance had a gig to play. My Katie. She certainly knows how to pick 'em." Jim glances across the table, nodding at Castle. Castle who is still suspiciously silent. Shit. "Present company excluded, of course."

"I wouldn't give him such an easy out, Jim," Martha cuts in, bracelets jangling merrily as she waves one thin arm across the table. "You only had to go to Atlantic City to rescue your wayward progeny. This one -" she hooks a thumb at Castle, a sly grin dancing on her lips, "decided to chase a girl to another continent when he was fifteen."

Jim's entire body shakes with the force of his laughter and Kate can't help but smile at the sound. She really does love seeing him so happy, even if it has to be at her - and now Castle's - expense.

"I should have known it was coming, honestly." Martha shakes her head, pauses dramatically to take a sip of her drink. "She was busty, leggy, and Swedish; Richard has always harbored a weakness for blondes."

"Okay," Castle says, his voice louder than it needs to be. He pushes his chair back, the wooden legs skittering across the floor, and stands. "Family fun time is officially over."

Moving around the table, he places one hand on the back of Kate's chair and holds the other out for her to take. Kate smiles and places her hand in his waiting palm, lets him pull her chair out as she uncrosses her legs and pushes to her feet.

"You are more than welcome to continue swapping horror stories about us," Castle says to the table at large, his tone only slightly petulant, "but we are going to go mingle and pretend this never happened. Captain, Jim, thank you both for coming. Mother, please don't embarrass me too badly."

Tugging firmly on her hand, Castle leads her across the crowded bar, putting as much space between them and the table they just vacated as he possibly can.


	3. Chapter 3

spoilers: Chelsea Cain's Archie Sheridan/Gretchen Lowell novels.

* * *

Castle pulls her across the bar, seeking out a place where they can have a moment to themselves. A moment to process whatever the hell it was that just happened. Spotting an unoccupied dark corner, he aims them for it, brushing quickly past the party attendants. He can hear Kate muttering pleasantries behind him and knows he's being a bad guest of honor but he doesn't care because right now he just needs a damn moment.

Reaching his destination, he turns and sags against the wall, her hand still clasped tightly in his. Kate steps into him, her free hand rising to rest on his chest, fingers playing with the collar of his shirt.

"You okay? It wasn't that -"

"You were seriously going to elope with some douche named_ Steel_ and you won't even let me _mention_ the word marriage?"

"Steel was just his stage name," she sighs. "His actual name was Steven."

"Because that makes all the difference."

"Castle, listen to me." The hand on his chest moves up to this face and her fingers are cold against his flushed cheek. His free hand gravitates to her waist, his thumb drawing tight circles over her silk covered stomach. "I was _seventeen_ and very stupid. I had no idea what marriage actually meant. I tried to elope in Atlantic City, for christ's sake."

"I've suggested that," he mutters and she pats him on the cheek, a smile pulling at her lips.

"We've been dating for less than a year and while I very much intend on having a future with you I really like where we are now." She leans in and brushes a kiss across the corner of his mouth. Her lips are soft and taste like sugar and alcohol and god he loves her. "There's no need to rush, Rick. We'll get there."

Castle drops her hand and wraps his fingers around the base of her neck, pulling her in for a searing kiss. She comes willingly, her lips parted and tongue sliding against his. He groans into her mouth, the hand on her waist slipping around to splay over the small of her back and pulling her hips up against his. Her fingers slip into his hair, nails scraping over his scalp, her body pressing against hotly into his.

"You two are disgusting."

Kate pulls her lips from his with a pop and looks over her shoulder at where Lanie is propped up against the bar, a hot pink cocktail dangling from the tips of her fingers. Laughing she turns back to him and withdraws her fingers from his hair, running them lightly down over his neck and chest. Leaning in close, she holds her lips next to his ear, her breath hot and heavy against his cheek.

"By the way, my bike isn't the only proof you have of my wild phase." She nips at his earlobe and it takes every last shred of his self control not to spin around and pin her to the wall. "You've seen my tattoo." He feels her tongue run along the shell of his ear, her fingers curling into his chest. "Repeatedly."

Kate spins away and leaves him up against the wall, dumbstruck and gasping for air. He loves that she has this kind of effect on him, even after all this time. The way she loves him, with her whole heart and mind and body, astounds him on a daily basis. He watches as she saunters away, tossing a wave at Lanie, her hips swinging exaggeratedly. Yeah, she's totally doing that on purpose.

"I see neither of you have ever heard of subtlety," Lanie muses.

Castle looks at her, mouth widening in a smile. He sidles up to the bar and leans against the counter, body turned toward her. He can still taste Kate on his lips, electric lemon and the perfect amount of vodka.

"I was subtle for four years."

"Richard Castle, if you think you were even remotely close to subtle you might want to get that dictionary of yours checked."

He locates Kate across the room talking to Esposito, drink clenched in her hand. He can hear her laugh from here, vibrant and happy and so incredibly different than the woman he met five years ago. "Okay, I was never quite subtle, but can you blame me? Look at her."

"I think you do enough looking for the rest of us," Lanie smirks, accepting a fresh drink from the bartender.

"Can I get a scotch, Brian?" Lanie cocks an eyebrow at him, lips pursed. "What?"

"We went to a lot of trouble to concoct these bright-ass cocktails, Castle." She waives her drink at him, the crayola red liquid sloshing perilously close to the rim.

"I know. And I appreciate it but I can only handle so many sweet drinks." He nods to Brian and takes the tumbler of scotch off the bar, holding his bent arm out for Lanie. She winds her arm through his and they start to move, making their way across the bar to where Kate and Esposito are holding court with Ryan and Jenny. "You helped Kate with the party?"

"Mm-hm."

"Does that include helping her with my present?"

"Mm-hm."

At her tone, Castle turns to look at her and sees her lips pulled up into a wicked smile, her dark eyes dancing with some secret he finds himself desperate to know.

"Tell me what it is, Lanie. Please," he begs, putting on his best wounded little boy face. "She won't give me even the tiniest of hints and I'm dying here. I mean, what if I don't like it and I'm not properly prepared to hide my reaction? You don't want me to hurt her feelings and make her doubt her gift giving abilities do you?"

"Trust me, there's no need to worry about that. You will _definitely_ be a fan of this present."

"You're not going to tell me either?"

"Not even a little."

"Evil."

"Who's evil, bro?"

Esposito slides out of the booth and waves his arm, letting Lanie slip in next to Jenny. Castle sits down next to Kate, her bare leg pressed tightly against his. The round booth is roomy and maybe he doesn't need to sit exactly this close to her but she's not moving away so he's not going to complain. Kate crosses her legs toward him under the table and the toe of her high heel brushes over his shin. She smiles into her glass as he drops his hand to curl around her outer thigh and runs his fingers up and down the smooth plane of exposed skin.

"Lanie," he answers Esposito, shooting the woman in question a dirty look as she smirks at him. "She knows what Beckett got me for my birthday but won't share."

Jenny titters from the rounded corner of the booth and his eyes fly to her. Her face is flushed and her eyes are little glassy from the cocktails. A weak link, perhaps.

"You know too, Jenny?"

"Yes," she giggles, her cheeks flaming. "Kate told us about it a couple of months ago."

"Months?" He can see Kate grinning from the corner of his eye, her fingers playing with the thick stem of her glass. "You've been keeping this from me for months?"

"It took some pre-planning." She shrugs one shoulder and takes a sip of her drink, the corners of her eyes crinkling with her smile.

"Okay, now I _have_ to know. Someone please tell me."

"You'll find out soon enough, Writer boy," Lanie says, listing a little into Esposito's side.

"Do you two know?" He waves his index finger between Ryan and Esposito, trying to gauge their level of sobriety. If he can just get one of them tipsy enough to let it slip...

"I don't know," Ryan offers, "and, judging by the look on my wife's face, I'm guessing I probably don't _want_ to know."

Jenny swallows the rest of her drink, grinning widely. "I'm not saying a word."

"Come on, Jenny. It's me," Castle urges, turning on the charm. "If you tell me, I might be able to get you someone on your freebie five list. Ryan won't mind, right buddy?"

"I never got to sleep with Natalie Rhodes!"

"Honey, if I can sleep with Channing Tatum, you have my full permission to go find Natalie Rhodes and do whatever you need to do to her." Jenny turns to Castle, eyes wide. "So, Rick? Do you know him?"

_Shit._ She couldn't have wanted to sleep with Alex Conrad? A Yankee? The cast of some low budget B movie? He has to play this cool. She doesn't want Channing Tatum what with his abs of steel and gorgeous eyes and - oh. "Isn't he a little young for you, Jenny?"

Yeah, he's too young. Make her feel a little dirty. Like she's -

"I'd sleep with him," Kate chimes in.

Lanie makes a noise deep in the back of her throat. "Me too. That boy has an ass on him like-"

"Thanks, bro," Esposito grumbles. "Now I'm going to have to listen to this for the rest of the night."

"Don't worry about it, Espo," Kate teases. "Castle talks a big game but he doesn't know nearly as many people as he likes to think." She pats him on the leg, eyes filling with mirth. "Your birthday present is going to remain a surprise. Sorry, babe."

"Aw Esposito, our little Beckett is all grown up, calling her boyfriend babe," Ryan teases.

"Quiet down, honeymilk," Kate retaliates. Cutting her eyes at Esposito she continues, "And don't even start, sweet cheeks."

"You told her about that?" Esposito squawks, spinning to glare at Lanie.

Castle emits a sound, something between a squeal and a gasp, covering his mouth with his hand. "Best birthday ever!"

"I wouldn't get too excited, Castle. Beckett has some nicknames for you too."

Oh, does she now? Castle leans into her, the palm of his hand sliding over her thigh. She looks up at him, eyes filled with mirth and something else he can't quite figure out (it's not so much desire as it is, _something._ He's usually better at finding words than this). Her lips tilt until it's a full blown smile and she laughs with a gentle shrug of her shoulder. The old Kate Beckett would have been more embarrassed; this one - the one who has thrown him a party that is even up to Richard Castle standards and is letting him openly touch her in a room crowded with their friends and colleagues - doesn't seem to have a care in the world. He likes her this way, wants her this way forever.

"I look forward to hearing those later," he whispers into her hair and he can feel the way she shivers up against him despite the amount of bodies in here and warmer than usual ambient temperature. He keeps his hand on her leg; skin soft and warm beneath his fingertips as he looks around the room. There are still so many people he hasn't said hello to that she should. Paula, some of the publishers at Black Pawn, his poker crew, some other writers he's known for years. He spots a blonde in the corner, grabs Kate's hand. "Come with me for a second. There's someone I want you to meet."

Kate nods in agreement, sliding out of the booth alongside Castle. "Excuse us, we'll be back."

"Hey Castle," Ryan calls out, "is guitar hero still set up in that back room?"

"Yeah. I call next round! Come find me when Esposito kicks your ass."

"Thanks, man." Esposito grins, turning to Ryan. "Told you you didn't have a shot."

Kate's laughing as he pulls her along, her hand tightly squeezed between his. He weaves through a group of people, catching sight of his mother, Jim and Gates still at that table, still laughing and oh _god_ there are stories Martha knows that no one should ever, ever find out about. Like things having to do with squids and Ferris wheels, alcohol and funnels, amusement park rides and Disney World jail. Yeah, he should probably tell Kate some of those things also. Just in case. Later. After his birthday present.

"Is it smaller than a bread box?" She lifts an eyebrow in question. "My present."

"Castle," and her voice is stern. Huh. That isn't good. "Keep asking me and you're not getting it."

"Fine," he grumbles. He stops at one of the booths in the back where the blonde now sits, nursing a drink like she's waiting for someone.

She glances up at their approach, her eyes lighting up. "Rick Castle. Happy birthday, old man."

"Careful, Chels," Castle laughs, hugging her, "you're only a year behind me." He turns to Kate, who seems almost - well, _giddy_. "Kate, this is Chelsea Cain. Chels, this is my girlfriend, Kate Beckett."

"No introduction needed," Kate says and there's a excited lilt to her words. "I'm a really big fan of your work."

Wait. She _is?_ How did he not know this? She practically lives with him at this point and he's never seen her pick up one of Chelsea's books. Does she think he'd be jealous? Oh, he's so confused right now.

"Please, sit. I'm just waiting for my husband." Kate slides into the booth, Castle following, and really he doesn't think he's seen her this excited since the time she met Joe Torre, though she's thankfully a bit more composed this time. "I've heard so much about you from Rick," Chelsea mentions to Kate.

"Really?" Kate muses, tilting her head to look at Castle.

"What can I say? You're a very popular topic of conversation."

"I didn't even realize you two were friends, although I did wonder given Senator Castle in the first two books."

"She did not treat me kindly," Castle pouts.

"I could have been crueler. Made you one of Gretchen's victims."

"I have to tell you that I'm absolutely fascinated with the dynamic between Archie and Gretchen," Kate offers, her eyes sparking. "The first time I read it I was actually horrified that, even as a cop, I found myself rooting for Archie and Gretchen to be together, especially in _Sweetheart_. I really admire a writer who can get you that invested in a novel that your outlook changes during the period you're reading it. Can I ask where you got the idea from?"

Chelsea smiles, fingers twining around the stem of her wine glass. "I watch a lot of cop shows, I read a lot of mystery novels. You hear about Stockholm Syndrome and it's a concept that has always fascinated me. I thought what would happen if you worked on a case for ten years, developed feelings for someone only to find out they were the one you were hunting, the one who ends up torturing you until you're so close to death you're hoping it'll happen and soon. And from there _Heartsick_ was born."

"Do you plan on writing more in the series?"

Castle lets himself zone out a little while they talk, only half paying attention to their conversation about the inherent problems of a love affair between a homicide detective and a serial killer. His eyes wander the bar, taking in the amount of people she's gotten to come here tonight. He's thrown parties in the past, but even he has to admit that none of them are as good as this. His wait staff is still wandering around, masks on, multi-colored drinks propped on trays and he slides his hand over her leg. It's been there most of the night in some way or another and he's cursing the fact that his damn office is a hole in the middle of the ground where people will _obviously_ see them if they go, not to mention Kate is _loud_ during sex when she's been drinking and - Shit. He has got to focus on this conversation.

"Castle is the same way," Kate says, and he snaps his attention back to the conversation at hand. Same way about what? "He's been hounding me about his present all night."

Chelsea laughs. "My husband does that to me _every_ year."

He thinks about protesting; he does. But to fight Beckett with words has always been win or lose with him, depending how on her game she is. Tonight, she's _really_ on her game. So, no. He needs something else, something she can't fight her way out of her, something that'll drive her absolutely insane, something that - _oh. _Yeah. That'll do.

He slides his hand over her thigh, listens to the slight, almost unnoticeable hitch in her speech pattern. His fingers are light as they prance over her skin, and her legs slide together because she knows him and he's certain she knows what he's about to do. He smiles at Chelsea, invested in the conversation again.

"So, Rick, how's the new Nikki Heat coming?"

Kate's legs widen a bit and he takes the moment to slide his fingers up and - _Shit. _He really should have expected it given the dress but the knowledge that she's been walking around all night - making small talk with his friends and colleagues, flirting with him shamelessly - without underwear makes his throat seize, his groin throb. His fingers still and he swallows and maybe this wasn't the _best_ idea because he can already feel how wet she is and there has to be a bathroom they can sneak into or a dark corner or his Ferrari that's been stashed somewhere around here by the valet.

He gathers his thoughts - his answer is probably already about three seconds too late - and the pastes the smile back on. "It's good for the most part. Still trying to work through the case though."

"I hate when that happens. I couldn't figure out what I wanted for plot in the entire third book. Then of course I had Black Pawn on my ass and nothing gets me going like a little friendly threat from your publisher."

"I liked the third one. Better than the second one where you _killed_ me."

Castle drags a finger through Kate's arousal, feels her tense, knows she's biting back a moan or a gasp. She feels so _good_, hot and tight and so fucking wet, as he pushes deeper inside of her, curling at the knuckle in a way that he knows drives her insane. Her features are schooled and he gives her credit for that, for having the presence of mind to hold herself together. He slides his thumb over her, narrowly missing her clit and she digs her nails into the wooden bench and yeah, she's going to kill him for this.

"You have to get over that, Rick," Chelsea teases. "Car accident is so much better than taking out your organs. It's fast, less painful."

He picks up his scotch and slides another finger inside of her. He feels her nails bite into his thigh and he tilts his head just enough so he can look at her. Her eyes are dark and hooded but her posture remains. He can see her pulse jumping under the pale skin of her neck, her chest expanding and falling with a rapidity that's just a_ little_ too quick to be natural. He wiggles his fingers inside of her, curls just enough that -

"What about you, Kate? Are you going to do publicity for the next Nikki Heat?"

Kate's eyes clear, snap back into the moment. He stills his motions, gives her a minute to catch her breath because he's not _that_ evil. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Rick's mentioned that that Gina wants you to come to his next signing for publicity. Did you decide if you were going to go?"

He curls his finger with the flick of a wrist, smirking. He catches the shift in her face from the corner of his eye, recognizes the look she now wears. It's one he's seen many times, a mix of revenge and sheer determination, and _fuck _this has seriously backfired on him. Her hand covers his, her fingers slipping into the spaces left by his, pressing him more firmly against her. His finger slides through her folds, inside of her, and she tilts her pelvis into his hand, rocking against his palm, and now _he's_ the one biting back a moan. He grabs his scotch, drinks down half of it. The alcohol burns through him, makes him want her more and shit he's an idiot. A really big idiot.

"I don't know," Kate responds and he's surprised and a little impressed by how _normal_ she sounds right now. The fire raging wildly in her eyes when she looks at him is the only betrayal of her calm exterior. "What do you think, Castle? Would Gina approve of me showing up as Nikki Heat? Or would that be a little awkward considering?"

Castle nearly chokes because how, how the hell did she one up him like this? Her hand is on his back, smoothing over the ridges in his spine and he's about ready to throw her down on this bench right now, make her come around his fingers. He tries to find the words but they're all bundled up and packaged away in his head and there's nothing left and he's a _writer_ for god's sake, words are his thing.

"What about you?" she asks Chelsea. "Has anyone ever dressed up as Gretchen Lowell for your readings?"

"A couple of fans here or there, but thankfully Black Pawn hasn't forced me into that yet. Then again," she says with a smile, "I don't have a real life inspiration."

Castle has reclaimed some of his balance and takes this opportunity to slide a third digit inside of her. He widens them, stretching her apart and she's dripping into his hand and he's can feel himself straining against his pants and there's no way in hell he can get up anytime soon. He should stop this. Slide out of her. Leave her alone. But she's clenching around him and he can't stop, won't, because it feels too damn good.

And then Chelsea, his angel Chelsea, slides to the end of the booth. "I'm going to head to the little girl's room and then get a drink." She stands up and thankfully they're covered because he'd never live this down. "Do either of you need anything?"

He looks at Kate, her skin flushed and glistening, can't resist teasing her just a little bit more. "Kate? You look a little hot. Do you need water or something?"

That look. Oh, she's going to kill him. Totally worth it, though.

"No, thank you. I'm okay." Chelsea walks away and she lets out a shuddering breath, her entire body shivering. "I'm going to kill you," she seethes.

"Oh, Beckett." He cleans in close, inhales the scent of her, the tart notes of her perfume, the sweet, musky scent of her. He curls a finger inside of her, then another, followed by the third and her walls quiver against his hand and if she's loud out here, oh, this is both the most _awesome_ thing ever and possibly the one that is going to get him killed. Her lips are nearly pressed against his and she whimpers into his mouth, delicate, needy. "Wouldn't it have just been easier to tell me what my present is?"

He watches the struggle in her eyes, the fight between anger and need, and she presses her hips into his hand again, swaying forward. "Can't do this here," she whispers, eyes casting around the room. "Take me into the bathroom. Now."

He's out of her quicker than he's ever been and he needs a minute, needs to breathe, to settle. His fingers are coated with her desire, sticky and wet and he slides them between his lips, eyes never leaving Kate. She groans, resting her head back against the cool wood, her chest rising and falling and how no one has caught them, he doesn't know. He runs his tongue over the pad of his middle finger, swirling it there until he's clean, until there's nothing he wants more than his lips on hers and this really isn't helping him, not when she moans into his mouth, tongue sliding against his.

"Castle," she murmurs, and she pulls away. She moves a little to the right, away from him, inhales deeply. Her head lolls to the side and she's smiling, mischievous. "I'm still not telling you what the gift is."

He can't help it; he laughs. "Don't even care right now, Kate. Bathroom?"


	4. Chapter 4

They tumble out of the booth, her body pressed tightly against his back, her hand warm and damp in his. He stumbles, his blood uncertain on which direction to flow, and Kate drops her forehead to his shoulder blade, giggling.

"We really aren't being very covert about this."

Turning, Castle brings his hand to her cheek and brushes his thumb, still damp with her, across her mouth. Her eyes slip shut as he traces the pad of his thumb over the gentle bow of her bottom lip , the tip of her tongue slipping out to chase him. She sways into him and he wraps their joined hands around her waist, pulling her hips roughly up against his.

"I can't honestly say that I give a damn, Beckett." His lips ghost over hers when he speaks, faint touches that catch in his throat, leaving him parched, his tongue thick and heavy against his teeth.

"I'm about three seconds away from pushing you down on the table," she growls, her breath hot and sweet. "Bathroom. Now."

"Rick!"

He groans into her mouth, presses his forehead to hers. "Why? Dear god, _why_?"

Kate laughs and squeezes his hand before untangling their fingers. She takes a step back, her eyes scanning over him hotly, and nods in the direction of the bathrooms. "Five minutes or I'm starting without you."

She spins on her heel and saunters away, grabbing a drink from a passing waiter as she goes. Castle watches her for as long as he can before turning to face Paula, a smile plastered on his lips.

"Paula," and his voice is saccharine as he leans down to kiss her cheek. "Thank you so much for coming. I was just about to head to the bathroom to-"

"Have sex with your girlfriend on the counter?" Right, this is Paula. Blunt, no barriers held Paula. "Come on, Rick. I've known you for how long? Spend five minutes with your agent and then you can go get your birthday jollies in the little girl's room."

He laughs. "I've missed you, Paula. You never call, you never write."

"How would you know? You're always off chasing down some victim. They give you a badge yet, Rick?"

"Just the handcuffs." He grins, and she rolls her eyes at him.

"You had the handcuffs before you started dating Nikki Heat if I recall. She know you slept with me?" There's nothing jealous or malicious in her tone, just a teasing he's grown accustomed to over the past decade.

"As a matter of fact, she does. Gina, on the other hand, does not. So let's never mention that to her in one of our meetings."

"Have you ever worked with someone and not slept with them?" He thinks about it for a moment, because _okay_ he has slept with a lot of people he's worked with. In the past. He finds Kate across the room, talking to Patterson, and something in this heart squeezes, reminds him of who he used to be, who he never wants to be again. She looks up in that moment, meets his glance, smiles. "You're really in love with her, aren't you?"

He looks back to Paula, his lips lifting. "That sounds almost sentimental. I didn't think you did that."

"And I didn't think you'd ever settle down." She rests her hand on his chest. "Three more Nikki Heat books."

"What?"

"Well, you want to keep writing your girlfriend for the next three years, don't you?"

"Of course, but-"

"We'll discuss figures next week, but Black Pawn is putting it on the table. Oh and Rick? Gina knows we slept together."

"What? How?"

"You think we haven't gotten drunk together at functions and discussed it?" Paula pats his cheek. "Be careful. You don't want Kate to come play with us."

"Trust me, I'd be more worried about the things she'd tell you than the other way around," he smirks, dropping a quick kiss to Paula's cheek before turning on his heel and moving away.

Kate is still talking to Patterson, her hand resting casually on the man's forearm. Patterson seems to be totally enraptured by her, his face split by a wide, toothy grin, his body canted toward her as she laughs at something he's just said. Castle finds a deep vein of jealousy running through his chest, tries to ignore it. It's Patterson and Kate, for christ's sake. Nothing happening there. Ever. Still, he quickens his step, cutting the distance between them in half the time.

"Patterson, are you hitting on my muse-slash-girlfriend?" He wraps an arm low around her waist, fingers brushing over the sharp protrusion of her hip.

Kate looks at him, eyes narrowed, and pokes a finger into his ribs. "Muse comes before girlfriend? Really?"

"Well, the muse part did come first, Beckett. Gotta respect the history."

"Be careful, Castle, or you just might lose both." She bumps her shoulder into his chest, a tiny smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"Can I put my name on the waiting list?" Patterson pipes up, his shoulders shaking as he chuckles.

"You publish twenty books a year, I don't think you need any more inspiration," Castle bristles. "Especially not mine."

"Why don't you let the lady make up her own mind, Rick."

"Sorry, James," Kate purrs, her body listing into Castle's as she winds an arm around his waist. "We established long ago that I'm a one writer girl."

"Well, you can't blame an old man for trying," Patterson laughs, raising his glass to them.

"If you'll excuse us, Kate and I have some rounds to make. I'll see you next week at the game?" Patterson nods and Castle turns them away, moving toward the darkened hallway leading to the restrooms. "And stop drinking all my good booze," he tosses over his shoulder, fingers digging into the curve of Kate's hip.

"Bathroom is out," she murmurs as they walk, her fingers hooked through the belt loop at his lower back.

"_Why_?"

"I just saw Lanie and Espo go in there. And from how far she had her tongue down his throat, I'm guessing they're going to be a while."

Castle growls and pushes her up against the wall, holding her in place with his hands at her waist and his hips pressed tightly to hers. He dips his head and draws a winding wet path up her neck with his lips and tongue. He can taste the salt and heat on her skin, wants desperately to feel her naked under his hands, her body moving against his.

"I want you so much." He whispers it into her ear, catching the lobe between his teeth and flicking her simple diamond stud earring with his tongue. "I need to feel you, Kate."

"I know. Me too." She runs her hands up his chest and buries her fingers in his hair, holding his mouth to her even as she rebuffs him. "But up against the wall in the middle of your birthday party is _not_ happening, Castle."

"Why not?" He knows it's a petulant question, can hear the whine in his voice, but he doesn't care. She's been turning him on for hours - years - and he just can't keep the lid on it anymore.

"For starters, because I'm not into that particular kind of exhibitionism. And secondly, Rick, your mother and my father are still here. Together. And watching us from across the room."

Castle jumps away from her like he's been burned, putting a good foot of space between their bodies. He turns his head slightly, glancing back at _the_ table. Gates is gone and sure enough his mother and Jim are staring at them like they're fifteen and were just caught groping in the backseat of - no, he's not going there. He takes in a breath, running a hand through his hair. There are still too many people here, enough that he knows they can't leave but if he doesn't get her against a wall or a car or a goddamn _something_ soon enough he's not going to make it much longer.

Kate licks her lips and yeah, _that's_ really helping the situation. His eyes narrow. "Can you not do that right now?"

It takes her a second to realize what she's even done and then she's rolling her eyes at him, taking a step closer. Her nails rake up his arm and he never understands how she seems so poised, so put together when he's on the verge of losing it. "Easy, soldier. We'll put in a few more hours here and then when we get home I'll let you-" She pauses, canting into his body, lips brushing over the curve of his ear. "Unwrap me."

He groans, parents forgotten as he captures her bottom lip between his teeth. "Are you my present?"

"Mmmm," she hums, stepping out of his arms. Her lips lift, mischievous and sexy. "I guess you'll have to wait a little longer."

She walks off, heading in the direction of Martha and Jim. A drink, he needs a drink. He steps up to the bar, elbows on the dark wood, taking in a breath and he's a little ashamed at how badly he needs Kate right now, except not because -

"You look like you could use a drink, Rick," Brian says with a laugh. "Scotch?"

"Tequila," Martha calls out from behind him. "Shots."

"Don't say it," Castle starts, turning, when Martha leans against a stool beside him.

"What? That you were nearly groping Detective Beckett in the middle of your birthday party with her father watching?" Martha shrugs, the movement causing her bracelets to jangle in delight. "Darling, I've done much worse."

"Yes, how could we forget that weekend in the Poconos when you and Mick Jagger _went to go make music._" He shivers; the mental images he conjures are flashes of youth and his mother's flowing dresses, rock stars and tight leather pants. "You've given me such stimulating memories in my forty-two years, Mother."

Brian places six shots on the bar in front of them; it's either sad how well he knows them or - okay, it's just sad. Castle slides the tequila closer to Martha, lifts his in cheers.

"Thanks for helping Kate with this, Mother. I see all the galas you threw when I was a child finally paid off; although there seems to be a conspicuous lack of half naked men here tonight, for which I am eternally grateful."

Martha waves her hand in dismissal. The bracelets adorning her wrist slide and clank against each other. "It was one event and we were honoring a swimmer, darling. Half naked was on the menu."

"Was he swimming _at_ the event?"

"Don't be such a prude, Richard. You have Kate to thank for the party. I did nothing but help choose the alcohol."

"Taste testing, no doubt?"

She pats his cheek lightly. "All the best for my boy." Her shot glass lifts in salute. "Happy birthday, kiddo."

"Thank you."

Their glasses chime in connection, shots downed. It's a bitter contrast to the scotch he's been drinking and it sings through his veins. He scans the room as he puts the glass back onto the bar and lands on Kate across the room and laughing with her father. He can't hear her from here, but the sound rings in his brain from memories of late nights, early mornings. It makes him wonder if this is who she'd be had her mother still been alive. This wild, vibrant woman who lets loose, who remembers happiness and love and hope.

"She's not going anywhere."

Castle snaps his attention back to Martha, who is holding another tequila out to him. He takes it, the glass cold, biting at the tips of his fingers. "What?"

"I saw your reaction when Jim pulled out that story about her almost running away to Atlantic City with what's-his-face. You still think she's going to walk out, don't you?"

He takes the shot without preamble this time. "No. But I _do_ think that she's still not ready for everything I want to offer her."

"Oh, Richard." Martha slides her hand over his arm, comforting. "Look around this room. This is Kate Beckett we're talking about. You think she would take the time to do this for anyone? She's more ready than you think she is. Just give her some time."

Castle lips lift into a smile. "It's a shame you gave up life coaching, Mother."

She tilts her head back, pounding the second shot that's been sitting in her hand. She's an old pro at this by now and Castle's impressed with how Martha doesn't wince, doesn't give in to the alcohol. She's poised and he's suddenly grateful for the years she's been living with him, a decision that he once thought would cost him his sanity. "I do have a knack for it, don't I?"

"You are a woman of many talents."

From the corner of his eye, he sees Kate moving toward them, weaving throughout the crowd. Her hips swing in rhythm, her cheeks flushed and she's gorgeous and his and with the way she's smiling at him he trusts that she's not going anywhere; that when she came to him drenched and dedicated almost a year ago, it was forever. She steps into him without hesitation, his arm wrapping around her waist. Her gaze drifts to the bar, the empty glasses, and she laughs, lifting an eyebrow.

"Are you two doing shots?"

"It's a tradition, darling," Martha answers, her voice lilting.

Kate looks at him, her mouth curling into a wry smile. "Mother and son tequila shots are a tradition?

"Mother likes to celebrate the joyous occasion of my birth by drinking a lot of tequila. I joined her - well, legally anyway - on my twenty-first." He looks at his mother, her brassy hair glinting in the light from the bar, eyes twinkling as she winks at the bartender. "I think it was my thirtieth birthday where I woke up the next morning in Paramus, sleeping on a park bench outside the bus station with no idea how we got there."

"We?" Kate muses.

"I wasn't the one who wanted to get on the bus," Martha responds with a shrug. "That lovely gentleman at the station the next morning did help us find our way home. I think I dated him for a few months after that."

Kate laughs again. "It's nice to see you've both calmed down a little."

"Speaking of, Mother, how are you getting home tonight? We don't want you to end up on a train bound for Florida."

Martha shudders, her body shaking with exaggerated movement."Florida. Everyone's so old there." She lifts a hand in Castle's direction, cutting off his barb before it's even fully formed on his tongue "No trains or buses or public transport of any kind this year. Jim was lovely enough to offer to see me home. I guess I should get him out of here. It's getting late."

He reluctantly lets go of Kate when his mother takes a step closer. She kisses his cheek and he wonders if she's going to speak sentiments, but it's not them, it never has been. "Enjoy the rest of your night, kiddo." She moves to Kate, wrapping her arms around her. "It was a lovely party, darling. Thank you for taking care of him."

Neither he nor Kate expect it; it breathes through him and maybe the supercomputer was wrong. Maybe forty-two isn't the end result of an equation for solving life's mysteries but the beginning. He thinks he hears Kate answer, something like _of course_ or _you're welcome_ and then he's watching Martha leave, floating lightly across the bar, right to where Jim Beckett stands, smiling serenely.

"You okay?" Kate asks, rubbing her hand over his arm. She stops on his bicep, squeezes gently.

"Yeah." He turns to her, grinning. "She's right, though. It's an incredible party, Kate."

There's a tint of red on her cheeks as she smiles. "I know. And now that I've proven myself, maybe you'll trust me next year and resist the urge to barrage me with a hundred emails."

_Next year._

He settles his arms around her lower back, clasping his hands. "No, I'll probably still send you emails. Two years in a row, Beckett? Let's not get carried away. I mean-"

He stops mid-sentence and she's lifting an eyebrow at him in confusion. "What?"

She's not facing the crowd, can't see what he's looking at. "You don't think... Our parents aren't... I mean, no, right?"

The look on her face would almost be funny if he wasn't positive it was the same look on his. "_What?_ Where is that coming from? My dad is just giving Martha a ride home. It's late, she's been drinking-" He loosens his hand, turns her until her back is flush against his chest.

Their parents are in the same spot as before but Martha's hand is lingering on Jim's arm and she's laughing and they're friends, their children are dating, that's all this is. It's nothing more and Kate will snap him out of this, be the voice of reason -

"They can't be dating, right? He is just going to drive her home? We'll get there tonight and she'll be upstairs and _alone_." He's quiet and she spins in his arms, smacking his chest. "Castle, reassure me here."

"I can't, I'm the one who mentioned it to you!" He takes the two remaining shots off the bar and hands one to her. "Drink?"

Kate grabs it from his fingers and they're both downing their drinks, glasses slammed onto the bar. It's just the alcohol, this is all just the alcohol.

Yeah, he's gonna need more of that.

"Brian, two more!"


	5. Chapter 5

His shot glass falls over and spins into hers, the thin round walls tinkling against each other. Kate laughs as she watches him suck on his slice of lime, his lips puckered and nose wrinkling.

"What's so funny?" He spits the rind into a napkin and pulls her closer with the hand on her waist.

"You. You're cute when you're drunk."

"Cute?" He balks, tossing his head to the side. "Puppies are cute, Beckett._ I _am ruggedly handsome. Have you seriously not been paying attention all these years?"

Tequila buzzing in her veins and her arousal still coiled tightly at the base of her spine, Kate leans in and takes his earlobe between her teeth, her lips brushing over the sensitive skin at the base of his jaw. His hand curls against the small of her back, the tips of his fingers digging into her muscles.

"Oh, I've definitely been paying attention." She dips her tongue into the hollow behind his ear, traces it over the thin curve of the shell. "Ruggedly handsome doesn't even come close to doing you justice."

"No?"

"No," she breathes, dragging a wide, wet stripe down the side of his neck with the flat of her tongue. She feels his adam's apple bob against her chin and grins, pressing her curled lips against the ridge of his collarbone. Almost a year and he still reacts to her like it's all brand new. The power she feels when he shivers at her touch or calls out her name is more intoxicating than the alcohol rolling in her stomach. She'd always known that they would be great together - once they got over themselves and gave in to each other - but she'd honestly never expected it to be like this. It was always going to be important but she was still surprised on the morning she woke up and realized it was everything.

Mouth still pressed to his skin, she reaches out blindly for the salt shaker, pours a stream onto the path she drew on his neck.

"Beautiful."

Kate puts the shaker down and grabs a fresh slice of lime.

"Brilliant."

She slips the lime between his teeth before he can ruin the moment with ill-timed sarcasm.

"Annoying."

She lifts a brow at his scoff and snags a fresh shot from the line Brian had poured for them.

"Loving."

She runs her mouth up the line of salt on his neck, the rough grains sharp and tangy on her tongue.

"Fuckable," she breathes into his ear and hears him swallow thickly.

Kate tosses back the shot, her eyes still on his face. She drops the glass on the counter and leans into him, her voice harsh and strained through the burn of alcohol.

"Sexy as hell."

She digs her teeth into the lime, the juice exploding bright and tart across her tongue. Castle pushes the fruit into her mouth, his tongue chasing along after, his lips hard and fierce against her own. She gives herself over to his kiss, lost in the way her mouth tastes like salt and tequila and lime and _him_. He groans when she pulls away just enough to tug the rind from her mouth, dropping it on the bar before threading her fingers into his hair and tugging his lips back to hers.

"_Mine_," she whispers into his mouth, her tongue running over the bow of his upper lip.

"Kate." It's a plea and a command. A rough sound that shoots down her spine and explodes low in her abdomen, sending a fresh wave of arousal sluicing through her body. Fuck. "Kate, I can't wait. I can't."

His eyes are heavy lidded with alcohol and cloudy with lust and she's overcome by the need to watch them slip shut in ecstasy as he presses himself inside of her. She slides her hands from his hair, dragging her palms down his arms until she can tangle her fingers with his. Stepping back, she tugs on his hands, pulls him off of the high stool he'd landed on somewhere around their third round of shots.

"Come on, Castle."

His hips bump into her ass as she leads him around the bar, tossing a nod to Brian when they slide through the open the door of the stockroom. He grins at them knowingly, his mask lifting up to press into his forehead, and Kate tries to find it in herself to be embarrassed that the bartender is very obviously aware of where they're going and what they plan to do but she just can't be bothered. Not when Castle's fingers are digging into her hips, bunching up the already short skirt of her dress, his lips dancing over the base of her neck and his erection pressing into the small of her back.

"Are we having sex in the stockroom, Beckett? Is that my birthday present?"

"We're not having sex in the stockroom and even if we were that wouldn't be your present." Her words are more air than sound, the feeling of his tongue and teeth on her neck having considerably diminished her ability to make noises that aren't moans of pleasure.

"Come on, Kate. You can take back whatever else you got me. This can be my present," he leans into her, his chest hot and wide against her back, his lips soft against her ear. "I need to be inside you. Now."

Kate whirls on the spot and seals her lips to his, her hips grinding against him. He groans and slides both hands down to cup her ass, pulling her forcefully into him, his fingers flexing into the taut muscles. Her hands drift over his chest, running down to pull the tail of his shirt out of his pants, scraping her nails over his stomach.

"We're not having sex in the stockroom, Rick, because your employees are using it as a staging area. _That_," she points to the left where tables are set up with trays of hors d'oeuvres and clean glasses, "is why we're having sex in the alley."

His eyes go wide for a moment before he slams his mouth back into hers, walking her backwards until they bump into the emergency exit at the back of the room. His hands are already sliding up under her dress, fingers digging into her thighs as she climbs his body.

"I love you so fucking much."

"Because I'm about to have sex with you in an alley in the middle of your birthday party?

"Among other reasons, yes."

They push through the door and she gasps, the night cooler than it had been when they arrived at the party. There's a slight breeze stirring the air around them, caressing her flushed and overheated skin. Castle releases his hold on her and stoops to place a small brick in between the door and its frame. He grins up at her, sliding the tips of his fingers up the length of her legs as he stands.

"Is _this_ my present?"

Laughing, Kate backs him up against the wall and drapes her body over his, flattening her breasts against his chest. "You're really not going to stop asking until I tell you, are you?"

"Nope."

She leans in, her hands braced on his chest, ghosts her lips over his. "Wonder Woman."

Castle rocks his head back to catch her gaze, his eyes glinting in the amber glow of the security lights. "You got me Wonder Woman?"

"No, I got you me _as_ Wonder Woman. Bracelets and all."

His eyes go wide and she giggles, her fingers still stroking over his shirt. She's been planning this for months, got the idea the Thursday before Halloween, all the pre-packaged costumes so shiny and bright; she'd done some research and found a company that could customize the suit to her measurements. She'd originally intended for it to be his Christmas present but the suit hadn't been ready in time so she had hidden it in the back of her closet and crossed her fingers that he wouldn't go snooping and ruin the surprise. Based on the look on his face, she's guessing he hadn't.

"You. As Wonder Woman? Holy shit, Kate." She feels him sag against the wall, his knees going weak even as his arms band more tightly around her. "We have to go home. Now."

"We can't," she reminds him, chuckling.

Eyes flashing, he spins them suddenly, pressing her back into the rough brickwork. Kate gasps when his hand wraps around her thigh and jerks it up over his hip, his erection pushing insistently against her damp center.

"The things I want to do to you," he growls, grinding his hips into her, "cannot adequately be performed in an alley, Beckett."

She moans into him as he attacks her mouth, his lips and teeth relentless in their quest to brand her. Kate slides her hands down to his waist, tugging open his belt and fly with practiced ease and slipping her hand inside the slippery silk of his boxers to cup him. He pumps his hips into her touch, his erection hot and heavy in her damp palm.

"I promise I'll let you do all those things later, Castle," she pants, his mouth working at the curve of her neck, "but right now I just need you to _fuck me_."

Groaning, he shoves her dress up around her waist before dipping his hand to her center and dragging three fingers through the arousal she can feel dripping down her thighs. She releases him and looks down, watches him run his hand, slick with her, over his erection before pitching his hips forward and pressing against her entrance.

"Shit, Kate." He pushes into her roughly, her exposed ass scraping across the uneven bricks, sending stars of delicious pain shooting across her nerves. His free hand goes to the thigh not wrapped around him and tugs, pulling it up to to join its mate around his waist. "You're so fucking wet. Fuck."

Her fingers curl around his ears as his mouth blazes across her chest, the wide, low neckline of her dress working to encourage his explorations. He pumps into her hard and fast, slamming her body up against the wall. She cries out his name and he presses a finger against her lip, silencing her. The blue of his eyes are dark, shimmering in the lights, and she bites down on the pad of his finger before sliding it into her mouth. She rolls her tongue over the whorls, and he groans. He tastes like her, what he does to her, and she doesn't break eye contact; not when her teeth graze over the soft flesh, not when she lets a moan slip through her lips.

Castle slowly eases out of her and her lips loosen around his finger, a groan tumbling from her lips at the loss of him. The wind abrades her thighs, leaving her too cold and too hot and too much in need of _him_. He's trailing his tongue down her clavicle, fingers once again dipping into her arousal. She clenches around him and he's whispering into her skin: secrets and love and a thousand answers to questions she never knew existed. He drags his palm over her clit, pressing the right amount of pressure until she's riding his hand. The night spins above her and she's drunk and desperate for him and happy and _oh, _his fingers feel so fucking good.

"Castle," she breathes, as he draws another tight circle around her.

Her body starts to shudder, the words she meant to say replaced with a moan, low and deep in the back of her throat. Her legs quiver around him and she's on the brink, close, but not close enough. She reaches between them, her fingers wrapping around his shaft. She slides her hand along the length of him, massaging him until his eyes slam shut and he's burying himself deep inside of her, muttering a string of curses, her name, I love you's. He thrusts once, twice, and she can feel him coming inside of her, hot and filling, his mouth branded to her neck, his hands tugging at her hair as she shatters freely around him, mouth open with nothing but silent screams.

Kate falls against him, her heartbeat pounding, and she slides down his body, heels clacking against the concrete. She rests her forehead against his; he's pulling down her dress slowly, fingers trailing lightly over her heated skin. "I love you," she murmurs.

He kisses her forehead. "Best birthday ever."

"I think you already said that."

"It deserves to be repeated. We had sex in an alley, Beckett. I mean, is that not so cool?"

She rolls her eyes, because even drunk he's ridiculous and a child and she couldn't possibly love him more. "Yeah, Castle," she responds sarcastically, "it's the coolest."

Her body cants against his and the cool breeze helps her breathe again. They need to go back inside; they've been gone too long and she's about to mention it when they hear the clearing of a throat by the door. Their bodies turn together, in sync as always.

"Uh, sorry to interrupt," Ryan says, shifting from foot to foot. His cheeks are red, he won't make eye contact and _oh_, poor Ryan. He looks like he's just walked in on his parents having sex and Kate bites down on her lip because it's not funny but she's drunk so yeah, it's a _little _funny. "Castle, you, uh, some people were looking for you to say goodbye."

She can feel Castle's laughter rumble in his chest, low vibrations that hum against her when she's trying to fall asleep at night. "Thanks, Ryan. Tell them I'll be right there. We have to clean Kate up. She spilled something. On her dress. You know how tricky it is to get stains out."

"Oh, uh, okay. Yeah. I'll tell them."

Kate laughs against his collarbone when Ryan walks away, lifting her head up to his. "I should kill you for that." She presses a smile against his skin. "Did you really need to talk about getting stains out of my dress?"

"For the reaction on his face? I really, really did. He looked like a kid who just found out that Santa isn't real. A portrait of shattered innocence."

She rolls her eyes at his theatrics and pulls the flaps of his belt together, fastening the buckle. "He's not as innocent as you think. You'd be surprised at what Jenny has mentioned over _a lot_ of cocktails."

Castle scowls, shivering dramatically. "Ew." She holds out her hand to him and he takes it. "Wait, you know about Ryan and Jenny's sex life? Does that mean Jenny knows about ours?"

_Oh Castle._

She quirks a brow at him and gives him a slow smile as they move back into the warmth of the stockroom, her fingers tangled with his.

"Only the fun stuff."

He gapes at her for a moment, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly, before a low pitched whine slips from his lips.

Yeah. She'll probably pay for that later.


	6. Chapter 6

He tugs her into the employee washroom, pushes the door closed in the faces of his giggling staff. They clean themselves up as best as they can, try to make it look like they didn't just fuck like drunken teenagers in an alley. Castle runs his damp fingers through his hair, pushing it back and forth across his scalp and sighing.

"Oh, not this again," Kate sighs, wrapping her fingers around his wrist and tugging his hand from his head. "Your hair looks fine, Castle."

"You messed it up with all that grabbing."

"Didn't hear you complaining at the the time."

"Well, no," he huffs, his eyes drifting back to his reflection swimming in the slightly warped and yellowing mirror. "But now it looks -"

"Like you just had mind-blowing sex in an alley?"

"Yeah."

Kate leans in, her lips brushing over his ear. "Good." She nips at his neck, light and playful, her nose brushing against his still pounding pulse. "Now let's go out there and say our goodbyes so we can go home and -"

"Try on my present?" He sees his own eyes light up in the mirror and feels her chuckle wash over his skin.

"Don't think it'll fit you, Castle."

Growling, he wraps her hair around his fingers, tugging her mouth to meet his. "You're such a tease, Beckett."

"You love it."

"Yes, yes I do."

Twining her fingers with his, Kate steps back and pulls him through the door and back into the cacophony of the bar. Castle watches her move, her body lithe and liquid as she winds her way through the thinning crowd, her hand stretched back to hold his. He grabs it and she squeezes, her lips mouthing silent words. _Soon._

* * *

Soon turns out to be not so soon after all.

The bar is empty now except for the six of them, their family as Kate had once called it. They're in the back room sitting around the pool table with bottles and bottles of tequila. Because it's his birthday. So why the hell not.

And he's drunk. Stupidly, awesomely, perfectly drunk.

He's forgotten whose fault this little game is, but he slams down another shot of tequila, salt and lime long since forgotten. Kate is next to him taking her own and he can almost feel the shiver that runs down her spine, wants to run his tongue over her shiny, alcohol infused lips. She's sitting on the green felt of the table, legs dangling over the edge, her bare feet tripping across his thigh every time she swings them and he wants to grab her, throw her up against the nearest wall, counter, staircase but there's this game and he's not sure he can move right now because there's alcohol, so _so _much alcohol.

"Next question," Kate calls out. "Dirtiest place you and your significant other have ever had sex."

On his left, Ryan writes on his little board and he's not drunk because Ryan _knows_ his wife and Castle grunts scribbling something down. He looks at it, crosses it out. Damn it. There was that lecture hall at NYU where he'd given a speech about the importance of literature, Gina's office during the Christmas party at Black Pawn (Beckett would kill him for putting that, wanted to kill him in the moment because it's apparently _inappropriate_ to - right,not the point), _oh, _the alley. He grins, can feel Kate's eyes on him and he looks up and _fuck_, she looks so gorgeous and loose and he needs to stop playing because who cares about this game when it's not going to end up with Kate naked on that pool table.

"Espo?" Kate asks.

Esposito sways on his chair, holds up a board. "Mojito?" Castle asks, squinting at the illegible handwriting. "Is this some new sex game I don't know about where you climb into a glass of mint?"

"It says morgue, you jackass."

"Oh, I forgot about the morgue," Castle mumbles looking down at his board, but clearly not low enough and _right_, that was supposed to be a _secret _because Lanie is looking at him like she wants to get away with murdering him him and Beckett doesn't look all that thrilled and he bites down on his lip, glancing back and forth between each woman. "I mean, I forgot the morgue was," he pauses, searching for words and he's a writer for god's sake, "there. I forgot the morgue was there."

"That was smooth, Castle," Ryan smirks.

"Quiet down, honeymilk."

"Morgue?" Lanie says, and she's not looking too happy. She turns over her board. "You think the morgue is kinkier than the Staten Island Ferry?"

"Birds don't crap on you in the morgue," Esposito seethes.

"Why would you go to Staten Island?" Castle asks, handing them both a shot.

Esposito looks at him like he's insane. "To have sex on the ferry."

Oh. Okay. Yeah, that makes sense.

"Ryan?" Kate asks.

"Well, um, I thought that you meant the dirtiest place as in health code violation dirty, so I said this little restaurant in Chinatown," he says, turning the board around.

"Finally!" Castle exclaims with glee. "You can take a shot."

"Actually, Rick," Jenny says, and she's grinning and _shit_. "I also put that restaurant in Chinatown."

"You're cheating!" Castle whines. "There is no way you two know each other that well. I've followed Beckett around for almost six years, written five books about her, been dating her almost a year and I _still_ don't know that much. Are you passing each other notes? Mind melding?"

"Doesn't sound like you're putting much faith into our relationship, Castle," Kate teases, and when he looks at her she's smiling, eyes dancing with mirth. He grabs her swinging foot, holds it in his hand. He slides his palm over the smooth arch and she lets out a small moan and this stupid game is never ending and they need to go. Now. "Okay," she manages. "Castle? Answer?"

"I debated long and hard because there was the pool at the precinct and-"

"Bro, really?" Eposito asks. "We swim in that."

"It's not like I left my-"

"Castle, stop," Kate says, holding up her hand. "And please don't name all the places in which we've had sex."

"Just how many public places have you had sex in, Beckett?" Ryan smirks.

Kate lifts an eyebrow. "I guess Jenny doesn't tell you _everything,_ Ryan." She wiggles her toes in Castle's hand. "Answer?"

"Dugout, Yankee Stadium."

The way Kate smiles at him now has his heart pounding. She flips over the board. "Dugout, Yankee Stadium."

Kate takes the bottle of tequila from his hand, fills the shot glasses and hands them over to Esposito and Lanie. Who might be more drunk than him.

"Number one celebrity your significant other wants to have sex with," Kate says, and she keeps mentioning the word sex and she's looking at him now, eyes full of heat and desire, hair tumbling over her shoulders, dress pulled a little higher than it should be, and that's it, this is the last question because he wants her at home in bed and -

"Write it down," Kate murmurs, toes drifting over his thigh.

Castle stands up, presses his lips to hers. "Last question?"

She must not care that their friends are around because she threads her fingers through his hair, kisses him back with a slide of her tongue across his lips. "Deal." She pushes him back. "Castle, what's the answer?"

"Jason Bateman!"

"Please don't tell me that's what you're going with." She rolls her eyes. "Castle, you don't even look like him anymore."

"Is it because I can't get my hair spiky now? I really don't know what happened there."

"You really love your hair, don't you, Castle?" Lanie asks, amused.

"It's so thick!" He slides his arm around Kate's waist, leaning against the table. "Real answer is Jeremy Renner."

"That's cheating," Ryan mentions.

"Oh shut up," Castle and Kate respond simultaneously.

Kate turns back to him and the smile she gives him is almost more than she can take. "Correct. For you, I'm going to say-" She stops, thinks about it for a second. She's not going to get it, he doesn't talk about her, he's only ever mentioned her once and not in context, he's - "Kate Beckinsale."

He's startled and she does know him, even without talking about things, without rehashing details again and again. He kisses her hard, triumphant. "KBecks."

"Oh that's so cute!" Jenny exclaims. "You're both KBecks."

Esposito shakes his head, nodding at Beckett and Castle. "You're both disgusting."

Kate laughs and he stops listening to answers the moment she leans into him, her hair rustling across his shoulders, the smell of her perfume and conditioner and sex radiating off of her in waves. He presses his lips to her head, slides down until he's at her ear. He focuses on the sharp intake of breath, the way he can almost feel her soft whimper.

"I love you," he whispers. "More than you know."

She tilts her head to look at him, flushed and happy and so fucking sexy. "You're drunk."

"Yes I am. Very much. But that doesn't make it any less true."

"I love you too." She presses her lips to his neck, bites down on his heated skin. "Take me home, Castle."

Game over.


	7. Chapter 7

He spends the ride to her apartment trying - and mostly failing - to keep his hands off of her because Kate Beckett will have sex with him in a lot of places but apparently the backseat of a cab is not one of them.

"Stop it," she hisses and he can almost taste the alcohol on her breath as it floats over his lips. "You are not putting your hand up my skirt right now."

"Why not? We just had sex in an alley, Beckett. I really don't see how a cab is any different."

"We didn't have an audience in the alley."

"Well, we don't know when exactly Ryan showed up so -"

"Stop talking." She slams a hand over his mouth, her eyes flashing amber in the haze of the street lights. "You can wait twenty minutes." Her hand falls away and she sits back, her head resting heavily on the cracked vinyl seat.

"I _can_." He leans in close, drags his lips up the column of her throat, his tongue darting out to press against her humming pulse. "But I really, really don't want to."

Kate rolls her head to look at him and _fuck_ the fire dancing in her eyes should scare him but really all it does is stoke his own conflagration, sends the flames licking through his veins, fueled by overwhelming lust and vast quantities of tequila. He sways into her and her hand wraps around his neck, fingers dipping into his collar, nails carving divots into his overheated skin.

"Do you really want another man to watch me come?" Her tongue rolls over his bottom lip, hot and rough, and he moans softly against her open mouth. "You want him to see me and hear me and smell me? You want to share, Castle?"

"No," he growls, lips skidding across her cheek before catching her ear between his teeth and biting down sharply. "You're mine."

"Then get your hand out of my skirt and sit still because if you keep_ that_ up -" she grasps his hand, stopping the slow circle of his fingers on her inner thigh, "our driver is going to get first hand experience of just how loud I can be."

Castle grunts and flops back against the seat, the poorly padded cushion deflating violently under him. Smiling, she leans and in presses her shoulder into his ribs, her head coming to rest over his heart.

"Don't pout. It's not attractive."

He runs his hand through her hair, wrapping the silky curls around and around his fingers, and closes his eyes, lets the feel of her head on his chest calm his thundering heart. Kate hums and rests her hand on his chest, thumb swiping rhythmically over the hem of his shirt pocket. She's warm and heavy against his side, her body molded to his, slotting smoothly into the empty spaces he feels were made for her in his more pathetically romantic moments.

"Why aren't you more drunk?"

She looks up at him, laughter in her eyes. "Why do you think I'm not drunk?"

"Well, no sex in the cab for one. Also - "

"Wait." She leans back from him, her mouth curling into a frown. "Drunk automatically equals sex in a cab to you? I'm not sure I like what that implies."

"What, that I've had lots of sex in the back of cabs?"

"Yes."

"Well, I have had -" Shit. _Shit shit shit_. That is not a good look. "What I meant to say was that alcohol lowers your inhibitions - oh, I love that word." He pauses and cocks his head to one side, has to close his eyes to stop the spinning in his head as New York flies past the dirt speckled widows of the cab. "Inhibitions. It's a fun one to say. Lots of i's."

"Castle." The low growl in her throat hits him in the chest and crawls slowly out over his skin, makes him want to make her say it again. Preferably while naked, her body rolling under his. "I think you should stop talking now."

"Yeah, you're probably right." He smiles at her, feels his lips spread his cheeks wide. "You're so smart, Beckett. I love that about you."

Kate laughs at him, the remaining vestiges of her anger fading as her eyes soften. "I'm going to remind you of that the next time you tell me I'm being stubborn."

"Stubborn and smart aren't mutually exclusive," he huffs, tugging her back into his side. "And you are both. At the same time. A lot."

"Rick?"

"Yeah?"

"Remember what I said about talking?"

"That I should stop?"

"You might want to do that now."

They ride in silence for a moment, the whir of tires on pavement the lulling him, dragging his eyelids down until he feels her hand slide over his thigh, pressing and warm, _oh_, so very very warm.

His lips lift lazily as she cants into him and he wraps his arm more tightly around her. Her tongue dips into the hollow of his throat, her breath hot and damp against his skin. He can feel the cab driver watching them and realistically there are two options here. One: They have sex in this cab - really, really fucking loudly because it's Beckett and they're drunk and it's his fucking birthday - and end up on page six in the morning. Yeah, no. She would not be happy. Two: No sex in a cab, raging erection, Beckett torturing him slowly, death.

Fuck, he hates being the responsible one. Especially when he's drunk and she moves her fingers like that.

"Kate," he murmurs and he bites down on his lip to keep the groan from escaping because her hand is moving lower and no, no. He grabs her hand away and she looks up at him, eyes glazed with lust, blinking. He tilts his head, mouth at her ear and he can feel a shiver race down her spine, a barely audible sigh pushing past her parted lips. "I don't need the driver seeing either of us come but if you move your hand any lower all bets are off and I _will_ make you scream in the back of this cab."

She lets out a lilting laugh, but backs away, head resting against the cool window.

"You weren't that drunk two minutes ago," Castle whines, shifting uncomfortably. "It's like birthday torture."

Kate drops her hand onto the seat, wiggling her fingers. He narrows his eyes in distrust, but takes her hand, twining their fingers together, his knuckles pushing into the seat. "I was trying to be good. Also, I'm not really that drunk, Castle. Well, not as drunk as you, anyway." He stares at her, tries to make sense of what she's saying without getting distracted by the way her lips glisten in the yellow light. "I started faking the shots when it became painfully obvious that there was no way we were going to beat Ryan and Jenny at that game."

"You, Katherine Beckett, are pure evil."

She laughs, all throaty and gorgeous and where are they? He needs to get them the fuck out of this cab. Against a building. Any building. It's late, they'll be quick, he'll pay extra for the driver to wait around the corner, but she's shaking her head at him like she knows what he's thinking and damn it, she will never go for this.

"I'm thinking in my next book there might be carneys," he blurts, letting his mind carry him as far away from thoughts of her naked body thrashing against his as he can before he explodes. "I've always loved the circus because it's a never ending parade of the best kind of freaks humanity has to offer. Maybe somebody murders the strong man with his own five hundred pound anvil and Nikki Heat has to come in and investigate and one of the midgets who works there falls in love with her and Rook is jealous and -"

Her mouth is on his then, hot, tongue sliding over his lips and into his mouth. He grabs the back of her head, fingers fisting in her hair, and she smells so good, like sex and cherries and vanilla and tequila and home - they really need her home. She breaks away from him but doesn't retreat, leaves her mouth hovering over him, breath washing over his buzzing lips.

"Shut up, Castle."

"You threatening me actually makes it hotter."

She smirks, and then by some miracle they're at her place and he's paying the cab driver, muttering some sort of apology because there had been no sex but it's not like they were even close to being subtle either. He follows her into the building and she's heading for the stairs and - oh, _shit_ he has to walk up stairs. He's drunk and horny and stairs are not his friend right now.

He grabs onto the railing, takes the hand she's holding out to him as well, hauls himself up flight after flight, his eyes glued to her body swaying in front of him. And then he's pushing her against her door, fumbling with the keys he's taken from her because he needs her inside - somewhere, anywhere. Kitchen, living room, stairs leading to nowhere; it doesn't matter. She stumbles into the apartment backwards and he's already hiking up her dress, sliding a finger through her arousal.

"Castle," she mumbles, but it sounds more like a moan. She's pulling away, chest heaving. "Before we do that or before we pass out, whichever comes first, I need to give you your birthday present."

"Wonder Woman?" He feels the excitement bubbling up in his chest, visions of a red, white and blue clad Beckett swimming across his mind. Yes. Present. He can wait for a present.

"You really think I'm going to go into the bathroom and do my hair like that right now? At," she glances down at her watch, lifting an eyebrow, "nearly three in the morning while we're both drunk?"

"Yes? Because you love me?"

"No, because if I leave you alone for the hour it would take to get ready for that costume, you will be passed out and I am _not_ going through that hair process again." She steps into him and he wraps his arms low around her waist. "I got you a real present too."

"Your body in a skimpy superhero costume is the only present I will ever need."

"Remember that when I never get you anything again for the rest of our lives."

A chill runs down his spine and he lets his eyes slip closed briefly. The rest of our lives. So casual. It sounds like honey on her tongue, sweet and smooth and god, he loves her.

He loosens his grip and steps away because if he doesn't, he'll take her right now, right here and he's already pretty uncomfortable and he's hoping for some post-present sex regardless. "Alright, Beckett. Let's see what you've got."

He watches her move toward her bedroom, hips still swinging in that way that hypnotizes him, makes him forget what he's doing, where he is, his own damn name. She tosses a smile at him over her shoulder as she passes over the threshold, the fingers of her right hand flicking at him, pushing him back toward the living room.

Castle flops down on the sofa and unbuttons the cuffs on his shirt, rolling the sleeves sloppily up to his elbows. His head fills with air, threatens to disconnect and float right off his neck, and he leans back, anchors himself to the overstuffed cushions lining the back of her couch. He stares at the ceiling until his eyes slip shut, memories from the night playing across his mind. Kate, Alexis, his mother and her father and their incessant teasing. Lanie and Jenny giggling and the boys groaning while Kate kicked his ass at Guitar Hero. Kate's fingers tangled with his as he made small talk and traded pleasantries with his friends and colleagues. The way she felt under his hands, pressed between his body and a brick wall. Her lips, her hair, her laugh.

Kate.

"You fall asleep on me, old man?"

"Not old. Just slightly aged. Like a fine wine. Or good cheese." He opens his eyes and rolls his head slowly across the cushion, trying to control the slosh of blood against his eardrums. "You changed." She's barefoot, her toes curling into the edge of the area rug, yoga pants and a tank top having replaced her dress.

"Yeah, I needed that dress off."

"Then why did you stop me when I was trying to _take_ it off?" Kate laughs as his face contorts into what he know is a pout but he doesn't really care. It's his damn birthday and he's been looking forward to unwrapping her for_ hours_.

"Do you really think you have the dexterity for zippers and hooks right now, Castle?" He huffs and rolls his eyes and she laughs again, dropping down next to him on the couch, her knee pressing into his thigh as she twists to face him. "I'd rather not ruin that dress; I just got it."

"You take pleasure in killing my dreams, don't you?"

"A little bit, yeah." She drops a messy kiss to his cheek, her right hand coming to rest on the nape of his neck as she presses a gift wrapped box into his chest with her left. "Happy birthday."

The paper is slick against his skin, dark blue shot through with tiny silver stars, a night sky in the palm of his hand. Castle works his fingers under the edges of the folds, taking care not to rip the wrapping. Kate laughs and he looks at her, turning the box over to work at the other side. "What?"

"I just always assumed you'd be one of those people that just rip into it. Shred the wrapping to get to the present." She taps a finger against the side of the box. "I even taped it really loosely to help."

"I usually am," he answers honestly, attention returning to the present in this hands, "but this feels important so I wanted to take my time."

Kate sighs and leans against him, her arm curling around his neck, hand slipping down through the open collar of his shirt and coming to rest on his chest. She rests her head against his shoulder as he opens the last seam, her forehead cradled in the curve of his neck. Castle can feel the nervous energy pouring off of her, her heart pounding against his bicep. He presses a quick kiss to her crown, inhaling the scent of her shampoo.

"You still smell so good," he murmurs, pulling the lid off the box and parting the tissue paper, revealing his present.

He scans it and it's familiar yet distant, something from another lifetime ago and then he realizes what it is. His chest clenches and it blinds him sometimes, the fact that she's here with him, that after everything she's willingly and completely his. She might not let him bring up marriage - at least not right now - but she's here and she has this and he's never loved her as much as he does in this moment.

"It's-"

"No," he says quietly, looking up at her. He trails his fingers over the bridge of her nose, her cheek, her chin. He's taking in all of her, committing it to memory. "I know what it is."

Her eyes flick to the box and then back to his. "It's about me, isn't it? Not Nikki?"

Right, he hadn't used names, only pronouns. He never did reread it once he finished, instead crumpled it up and threw it in the trash. He'd needed to rid himself of the emotions while he waited for her; was forced to watch her break apart, unable to help no matter how much he wanted to. So he'd scribbled it out, poured his heart onto a yellow legal pad he'd swiped from her desk and then threw it away, his catharsis crumpled in her precinct wastebasket. He sees the creases in the paper now, the way she must have tried to smooth them out over time with books or heavy objects.

"Yeah," Castle finally answers, voice choked with emotion, "it's about you. Us. How did you - I thought I got rid of it."

Kate unwraps herself from around him, turning so she's facing him. She lifts her knees to her chest, wraps her arms around them and she's free of makeup, gorgeous, young. He watches as she closes her eyes for a brief moment before opening them again. "I stayed at work after you left. I wasn't ready to go home and I was doing paperwork and I -" She laughs, lifting her elbow onto the back of the couch. She tilts her head, falling in front of her face and he tucks it behind her ear, needing to see her. To see the openness and love that have finally eclipsed the shadows of pain in her eyes. "I threw something out that I shouldn't have and when I went into the garbage for it, I saw it. I thought it was mine at first." She slides her fingers through his hair and he sighs. The buzz of tequila is waning, but this is better, _she's_ better. "You made me want to be more, Castle. You made me - you made me want to work to get past all of this so that I could be ready for you, for this. That's why I kept it. To remind myself."

He pulls her into him, lips brushing over hers. His tongue slides over her bottom lip, into her mouth, kissing her with all the memories from that day. The way she had broken down but tried so desperately to hide it, the hollow look in her eyes that scared the shit out of him. She had gone from bad to worse to mending and he would have done anything for her then, _did_ do anything when he sent Esposito to help her instead of him.

"I love you so much," he mumbles, breaking away from her lips and resting his forehead against hers. Her breath washes over his cheeks, warm and sweet, and he closes his eyes again, gives his galloping heart time to slow to a trot.

"I know." Her fingers, slim and cool, dance over his cheeks, the soft pads smoothing over the light stubble sprouting along his jaw. She leans back and he lets his eyes slip open, tracing over the soft lines of her smile. "Your love was - It was too much for so long, Castle. I couldn't carry the weight of it, not while I was in that place." She nods to the framed piece of paper in his hand. "And I'm sorry for that, for making you wait all that time."

His head is shaking before she gets even halfway through the apology. "No. Don't, Kate." He skirts his thumb along her neck, can feel her pulse, alive and jumping, under the thin skin. She has to know, has to understand that the wait - he'd do it all over again, exactly the same, if it meant getting to this place with her. "We needed that time. You needed to heal and I needed to let you. I spent a lot of time wishing I could make it better, wanting to take away your pain. But we both know that if I had, we wouldn't be here. We wouldn't have _this_ -" he kisses her, hot and a little desperate - "and I wouldn't change that for anything."

Kate slides over his lap so she's straddling him, the curves and angles of her soft and pliant under his fingers. He can see the gratefulness in her eyes, the green flecks that have broken past the rich brown. Her lips lift in a wry smile. "You still wish we had sex after that first case, don't you?"

"Yeah, I really do. Come on, Beckett, it would have been so hot! You bit your lip and then whispered in my ear. You can't tell me that wasn't a come on."

She laughs, sliding closer to him, pressing the sharp edges of his present into his stomach as she leans her chest into his. He groans at the sensation, hands sliding under the straps of her shirt and over her shoulders. "Of course it was a come on, Castle. But I wasn't going to sleep with you just to sleep with you."

"Still would have been great."

"You have such a high opinion of your sexual performance."

He raises his hips slightly, gently grazing her. She lets out of a soft moan, head tilted back, the long column of her neck exposed. He slides his mouth over her clavicle, the familiar taste of her skin coating his tongue. "You've never complained."

She has one foot on the floor then, the other following suit and he's about to complain, to pull her back when she reaches her hand out to him. "Bed, Castle. Now."

Oh. Okay. Yeah, he can get on board with that. He takes her outstretched hand, his fingers curling between hers, and pushes up off the couch. She laughs at him as she starts to walk backward toward her bedroom, nodding her hand at the picture frame still clutched in his other hand.

"Bringing that with you?"

He looks down at the frame, a gorgeous combination of wood and metal, rustic yet somehow still sleek and modern, the glass reflecting his swimming image back at him. He looks tired but happy, his hair disheveled, collar spread wide, face tinged with pink and split with a grin so wide his cheeks are starting to hurt. The grin falters when his eyes focus past his reflection and fall on his own hastily scribbled words; words she saved and preserved, words she inspired and used for inspiration. His heads spins with it, the meaning behind her actions hitting him over and over, the feelings spiraling out of control until all he can say -

"Yeah, I am."

They cross the threshold to her bedroom and she leads him to the bed, the light pouring through her open curtains the only illumination. He pauses for a moment to place the frame on her nightstand, wanting to keep it close, not caring how overly sentimental he's being. Kate releases his fingers and steps into him, tucking her body against his side and resting her head on his chest. Sighing, his contentment ruffling through her hair, Castle wraps his arms around her and holds her tightly, his fingers tracing tiny circles along her back.

Kate turns her head, her breath sending fire licking across his skin as she noses open the collar of his shirt and presses a kiss to the center of his chest. Her hands snake between them and work at his buttons, deftly slipping the tiny discs through their holes, her lips skating aimlessly across his sternum. Tugging the tails from the waistband of his pants, she flicks open the final two buttons, sliding her hands over his stomach, up the curve of his ribs. Castle groans, her name trapped somewhere between his lungs and his throat, when her teeth run over his nipple, the ragged edges tugging and scraping at his skin.

His mouth lands on her naked shoulder, hands sliding under the hem of her shirt, fingers desperately seeking flesh because he needs to touch her _now_; needs to show her, make her feel what he's feeling. Lust and love and happiness swirl in his veins, mixing with the alcohol, pushing him up up up, filling his stomach with a scorching desire that pitches and rolls, drives his hips into hers. She moans when his fingers change course, dipping down, pushing under the soft elastic waist of her pants, his palms cupping her bare cheeks as he yanks her closer, tries to fuse their bodies through too many layers of fabric.

"Thank you," he murmurs, lips ghosting over hers. "Hands down the best birthday I've ever had."

She undoes his belt, slowly sliding it out of the loops. She tilts her head back and she's smiling and it's not enough, he not sure anything ever will be. "And your actual birthday isn't even until tomorrow," she teases. "Think of the possibilities."

The excitement hums through him and just thinking of her in that Wonder Woman costume has him hard and wanting and oh _god_ he just needs to be against her, inside of her, the soft skin of her neck sweet on his tongue. She's unzipping his pants and they fall to the floor, a heaped pool around his feet. He steps back and kicks out of them before bringing her body back to his, the separation of even a few seconds too much for him right now.

"You need to take your pants off," he says with a groan, pulling his hands from her waistband and pushing at the stretchy fabric. "Too much material."

She laughs against his shoulder, pushing him back until he falls back on the bed. His elbows cushion his landing as he bounces on the mattress, staring up at her as she slowly slides the cotton pants down her legs. Oh, those_ legs_. So long and toned and he needs to feel them wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer to where he so fucking desperately wants to be.

She takes a step forward, confident and stunning, and tugs her shirt over her head, tossing it somewhere on the floor and he can't stop staring at the way her chest moves when she breathes, the pale pink scars that are so much a part of them. She moves to the edge of the bed and he sits up, running his hands over the backs of her thighs. His tongue trails around the curve of her belly button and he can feel the way her stomach contracts, the hiss of air she sucks through her teeth. He moves lower, can practically taste the heat radiating off of her, and he parts her folds with his fingers, sliding his mouth over her. She grips his shoulders, pushing his name out a gasp and _fuck_, she tastes so good. He's still aching for her though and it's not enough; he needs her on him, moving over him with ease and want and so much _sexiness_ that he can't think straight.

Pressing his fingers into the hollow of her knee, he tugs her leg up onto the bed, her calf pressed into the mattress alongside his thigh. Castle leans back, slick lips breaking into a grin when she groans at the loss of contact, and slides his fingers together, dipping into her shallowly. She's wet and hot and climbing into his lap, her nails digging into his shoulders as she rolls her hips against his hand, seeking more of him. He teases her, lips skittering over her ribs, fingers slipping over her, into her, sliding across her clit; she chases him with her hips, rocking and writhing in his lap, driving him to brink with her low moans and grasping hands.

"Castle - fuck," she pants, her lips skimming his ear, tongue tracing over the shell. "Stop teasing. I need you." Her teeth close on his earlobe, sharp, pleasure blurring into pain and back again and fuck she's going to kill him with her body one of these days, all lithe and hot and _his_.

Her whispered threats melt into a mewling moan of pure pleasure when he slips two fingers into her, pressing as deeply as he can, his palm bumping her clit as he thrusts into her. She sinks down onto him, her weight pushing his arm down until the back of his hand is brushing over his throbbing erection with every sweep of her hips and shit -

"Jesus, Kate," he slurs as they topple over on the bed, his hips thrusting into her without his permission, the slippery silk of his boxers teasing them both. "You feel so fucking amazing."

She runs her hands down his chest, the tips of her fingers flickering over his skin until she reaches his waist. With a wicked grin, she pushes the silk down over his hips and takes him in her hand, massaging him from base to tip. His eyes slam shut at the way she works him, the steady, agonizing twist of her wrist and he can't think. He's buzzing and it's leftover tequila and building desire and he slides out of her, gripping her wrist with his coated fingers, stilling her. Her eyes are wide, full of passion and she bites down on her lip as he brings their hands to his mouth, rolling his tongue over the tips of his fingers. He lets out a strangled moan at how _good_ she tastes and then he's inside of her, thrusting hard and fast, his hands gripping her hips as she rides him.

He tries to press up onto his elbows, wants to drag his mouth over her stomach and breasts, feel the flex and play of her muscles under his tongue but his body won't cooperate and all he can do is lay on the bed and watch her. Watch the way her head rolls on her neck as she slips over him, mouth open in silent ecstasy, throat convulsing with every dip and twist of her hips. Kate leans back and braces her hands low on his thighs, her bowed back pressing her chest toward the ceiling, the ends of her hair whispering over his knees.

"You're so gorgeous," he mutters when she starts to flutter around him, her hips bucking erratically as she works for her orgasm. He skates one hand up her side, letting his fingers dip into the spaces between her ribs, before taking her breast in his palm, thumb and index finger swirling over her nipple. "So gorgeous," he repeats and her head snaps up when he pinches her nipple, the hand on her waist sliding over, his thumb pressing firm circles over her clit.

"Castle."

Her voice is raw and rasping, eyes wide and full of so much desire and love that he can't fucking take it anymore. He needs her to come, needs to feel her clamping down around him as she lets go. Increasing the pressure and speed of his thumb, Castle bends his knees and plants his feet on the bed, slamming into her until her eyes roll back and she groans out a string of curses, her body going rigid above him.

"Come on, Kate," he pants, feet and shoulders digging into the bed. "Come for me."

His name is a primal scream on her lips when she comes, her body turning limp and crashing down onto his. He wraps his arms around her and her open mouth is on his neck as he pumps into her one, two, three more times and then cries out her name, his orgasm hot and heavy in his abdomen, body convulsing violently before collapsing onto the bed.

Castle tightens his arms around her, hands coasting up and down her back, her head resting on his chest. She breathes heavily against him and he tangles his fingers in her hair, his gaze drawn to the frame he'd placed on her nightstand. He can't read it in the dark, can only see the gleam of moonlight and street lamps reflecting off the glass but it doesn't matter.

She kept it.

Crumbled, discarded, safe.

"You okay?" Kate asks, her voice soft.

"You've worn me out tonight, woman. I think I'm too old for all these shenanigans."

"Really?" she deadpans. "So that was someone else trying to get me off in the booth tonight?"

"That was so awesome," he grins, proud of himself, and he doesn't need to see her to know she's rolling her eyes.

Gently, Castle shifts their tangled bodies, moving her off his chest and onto the bed, tugging the pillows and sheets into position. She sighs when they're settled, her body curving into his side, head on his shoulder and fingers splayed over his ribs. He yawns widely, jaw cracking, and she laughs, her body shaking under his arm.

"I really did wear you out, didn't I?"

"Yes. So worth it, though. We should have drunk sex more often."

"We'll see if you still feel that way in the morning."

"Afternoon, Beckett. I'm not getting out of this bed - or letting you out of it - until _well_ into the afternoon." He presses a kiss to her forehead, his eyes slipping closed, words slowing along with his heartbeat. "We can spend the whole day having lazy hangover sex."

"No, we can't," she mumbles, her voice thick, sated. "Family birthday dinner, remember?. Have to shop and clean and cook."

Even half-asleep, his heart flips at her willingness to include herself as part of his family. "Cancel it. Sex instead."

"I'm not calling your mother and daughter and telling them that dinner is canceled because you want to stay in bed and have sex all day."

"Fine, I'll go. Will you make it up to me with lots of Wonder Woman sex?"

"Castle, go to sleep."

He's nearly asleep, visions of spandex and bracelets and Beckett crowding his mind when he hears her voice, distant, sexy, perfect.

"Happy birthday, Rick. Love you."

Happy birthday indeed.

* * *

_finis_


End file.
